


Raw Meat

by oREDACTEDo



Series: Creepy Femme Fatales [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Animalistic, Cannibalism, Creative Splurges, Creepypasta, F/M, Forbidden Love, Heroine, Horror, I gave Jack his own backstory, Insanity, Kidnapping, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Sync, Murder, Obsession, Psychological Horror, Romance, Sex, Sexual Frustration, Slenderman too, Slow Romance, Stalking, Survival, Unrequited Love, multiple sex scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 95,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oREDACTEDo/pseuds/oREDACTEDo
Summary: When Anessa is taken captive by a monster beyond her imagination, she is forced to use her determination and wits to keep herself alive.  She understands the situation is grim—Anessa isn’t the first, nor will she be the last of its victims.  She’s smarter than she looks, the eyeless monster is aware of that.  Still, it hungers for her flesh at every waking moment.  But there is one thing that remains unanswered: why is it even keeping her alive?REOCCURRING READERS: Please take the time to do the following poll:http://www.easypolls.net/poll.html?p=5ada2cb8e4b0f7307b177b61





	1. Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the interesting in reading my fanfic. The Eyeless Jack creepypasta is of course not my creation, but since he is a vague design I took my own personal flare to him. This is going to be developmental for both him and my girl Anessa. I’ll be posting at the very least weekly! Thanks again, and enjoy!

Beautiful.

The scent of blood lingered in the air. A copper melody merging with rotting grass and mud.

Utter _perfection_. He could feel his hunger subsiding now, like shadows casting away as the sun rises. But it happened slowly, steadily. So, for now he would enjoy this. Every moment of her agony. Every shiver of her decedant pain.

Anessa wasn’t screaming, because the pain came so sudden. Moments ago she was running—lungs burning and limbs popping under pressure in the fridge air. Her heart, it never raced so fast. She never felt that pure fear build up in the peak of her gut. Feeling the pain suddenly overwhelming her put everything on pause. As they lay in the snow, her mind began to reboot.

Where was she?

Who was this man?

 _Why_ was this happening to _her_?

The last thing she remembered was walking down her usual trail in the state park. Anessa wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t alone. There were many people present at the time. It wasn’t even night—it was 10 AM.

Gnawing, ripping, beating pain. He wiggled his jaw wrapped around the tender flesh of her right shoulder before hooking his teeth in deeper. A shrill came out from her lips before dying instantly, the cold air silencing her dry throat, and when that man giggled into her flesh she felt something inside of her snap. Anessa reaches up with her right hand before burying her thumb into the hole of his mask. She felt flesh wrap around it, heard the squishing sounds as she wiggled her digit viciously around his eye cavity. Anessa felt her spine shiver—it was warm and wet and sticky and smelt of flesh. Like kneading a hot bowl of oatmeal and ground beef. But when no scream came she dared to pause, only to see him unfazed. “W-Wha,” she stutters, her eyes widening. Slowly she retracts her hand, a thick coat of black surrounding her finger, and that’s when she realized the horrible truth.

This man had no eyes.

He only giggled, pressing her deeper into the ground as she struggled to find her bearings. What was happening, what was this man? Why was his blood black? Anessa didn’t have much time to think, only to survive. She rears the same arm back and pulls, hard, his teeth scraping against bone as she struggled to wiggle him off. A handful of his hood was buried within her whitening knuckles, but he was strong. _Too_ strong for someone like her.

A scream of frustration; a fighter’s last lament.

She had to get him off, somehow, or else she was going to die in the snow.

Cherry red tainted the ground, alarming her, and while she was still awake and aware she took as much opportunity as she could. Anessa could feel hair bundling beneath the grimy cotton sweater he wore, and as she twisted her grip she heard him growl and groan. But it didn’t pain him. He was enjoying it all, blood coursing through his veins. Jack moans at the little fluttered gasps she made as he claws into her side, tearing through her beige parka. Another broken scream, and he was snickering again.

The gentle flicks of his tongue against her raw flesh gave her a new rush of fear, and as Jack dominated above her more she felt all the more powerless. “ **Fuck**...!” She screamed finally, terror and anger brewing into a delicious mix for him to watch. She pounded against the back of his head, her free hand clawing into the dirt and snow for something, _anything_. Sand and small rocks micro scratched her, caking into cuticles until they bled. But that pain goes unnoticed. His claws were big and curved like the talons of a hawk. They dug into her supple sides, the pop of her skin sounding like a juicy grape under pressure. He held her close to him, their bodies like puzzles pressed together, and for the first time in a long time Jack purred.

This was _perfect_.

He never felt so complete, so whole.

She still fought for some time, something that surprised and impressed him. All the blood that was dripping out, all the punctures and lacerations he gave her. She stayed awake, furious, eyes wide open. She pries at him consistently until her arms lost their feeling. Then the darkness came, fogging the corners of her vision, scaring her closer to death.

“Please...you’re killing me,” she sounded raspy, silent tears pouring out of her eyes. And Jack listened to her pleas like music. Soothing, relaxing music. She was charming, he thought. The fire in her would die like this, rendering her to beg until she, too, realized how futile it was. He loved a women who understood what was happening, what was about to happen. That means they’d give up.

Oh, but she was _different_. She was oh so fun.

When Jack flips her over to assess the damage he made, he noticed she was unconscious. A long, dark tongue slips out, hanging there, dripping with her blood. The small droplets pooled around her neck, mixing with the blackened liquid from his sockets. The smell was like copper and tar, something that he thought would arouse her back to consciousness. When she didn’t, Jack made a noise like a growl. He was about to finish the long job bitterly, but then something strange happened. Something that never happened to him before. Anessa lunged up at him, eyes burning with one last fight. Her head tilts to the sided, jaw latching around the side of his throat. When she bit down she felt the blood filling her mouth, the snap of flesh between her stretched lips. She felt Jack’s body stiffen above her, and she would have wrapped her hands around his neck. She was planning to. But her arms wouldn’t move. Instead, they rested limp, hanging by her sides.

Jack was stunned by this, stunned by the pain that he hadn’t felt in a long while.

“...heh...hehehe...hehe! Hahah!”

The slow draw of a chuckle turned into a maniacal cackle that shook the very trees surrounding them. Anessa hung there helplessly, digging her teeth into him, wiggling her jaw and burying deeper. She probed at the open wounds with her tongue, ripping them open further, only to make him laugh all the more gleefully. The way his fingers kneaded into her side, knuckles rolling and massaging the tight spots on her back. He enjoyed the sensations he was experiencing, even the pain, and took it with some odd sense of pride. This wasn’t going to help her, she thought. This was only making a fool out of her. She releases him instead, spitting at him, that same look of anger and fear tainting her face. Black blood coated her teeth, the texture thick and viscous, and she sneers at him through a clenched jaw. “What the hell are you,” she gasps, breathing heavily.

She felt his gaze on her—he had no eyes, but she knew. He could see her—he watched her. And he enjoyed it. “I won’t let...you kill me...!” Yet, there she was. Bruised, beaten, bloody. The open wound on her should looked like a shark tried to swallow her whole. Ripped clothes buried deep into the trenches that his teeth made into her pale flesh, and if she were to somehow get away she would surely die from blood loss before the cold.

Shaky legs kicked at him with a surprising amount of force. Jack leaped back, landing like a cat on all fours, and as she stood up wearily he tilted his head to the side.

She wanted to run, because she knew she wasn’t going to survive a fight with him. Not hand to hand, absolutely no way. But she wasn’t ready for this all, nor was she expecting it. He was a hunter who knew what he was doing. So, ultimately, she understood her fate. Yet she couldn’t accept this. Deep sockets like craters poured with a soupy liquid that looked like script ink, and her lips pulled back in disgust.

Anessa shook her head, swaying side to side at the lightheaded feeling she was getting.

“Take off your mask,” she demands, cheeks turning pink and skin pale. She was losing blood fast, too fast. The man tilts his head again, his throat making a sound like alien clicks. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and she knew she wasn’t going to hold out much longer.

“I want to see the face of my killer.”

Oh, how surprising, he thought! How wonderfully, deliciously surprising!

Jack grins big, the only sound he made being the clack of his jaw. She whimpers, digging her heels into the ground. He was just kneeling there staring at her with unbelievably sharp teeth, and it was unbearable. “I’ll **die** if you take too long,” She huffs, waiting, struggling to muster up her strength to just speak. They were on the same page—she wanted him to know that.

No begging.

No running.

No games.

He tilts his head again, the black substance oozing towards the other side of his face. “ _Oh_...?” He hums, his voice deep and dark like moans of a mountain cavern. When he slowly stood he was like a tower, an alarming height compared to her average one, and it made her breath hitch. A clawed hand reaches up, and with a light flick of his finger his mask flings from his face into the snow. His gaunt skin like rotten grey flesh was no longer concealed by the midnight blue mask—she saw him clearly now. Muddy dark hair and a sharply framed face with stubble unkept around the jawline. A monster in a man’s body, standing there almost playfully toying with her, and she hated it.

“Holy shit,” she gasps, watching his grey lean body as he cracks his neck. Low animalistic growls deep in his throat rumbled as he rolled his shoulders forward, hands planting flat into the snow, and there his body shook. He was some animal, he had to be. There was no way a man would do this. Would sound like that. He snaps his head up, bare face staring into her with a killer intent.

Then he grinned. “ _Run_.”

Anessa’s breath hitched, and almost instantly she started running. She could hear his body sprinting after her, the loud laughter as he tore through trees to help with the sharp turns she’d make to avoid him. How fun this was for him! She still had a fighter’s spirit, she still had energy!

A scream escapes her lips, “ **Help**!!!” Her voice carried through the air like the call of a morning dove. It came gentle, and died from the pre-blizzard breeze. “Help me!!!” She screams louder, but just like the last it went unheard by all. She was too deep in the forest, too far from her usual trail. He came out of no where, dragged her in like a helpless deer when no one was looking. And he moved so fast, she could only image how deep his inhuman speed dragged them into the woods.

“Please! Somebody...please help me!”

Anessa yelps when her foot slips along a slope. Her body falls, sliding down with rocks and snow and dead leaves. The trunk of a tree breaks her fall, then two trees, and when she finally hits the ground she was in too much pain to stand back up. Painful groans break through her cracked lips, her body shaking in agony. _Please God, please don’t let my back be broken_ , she thought. But the approaching sounds of shuffling made her quick to react. Anessa scrambles for one of the many mounds of the uneven terrain, hiding behind it and growing silent. Soon she heard sliding, followed by the monster landing against the snow on two feet.  For a moment it was silent, her shaky breaths concealed by the rustling of dry leaves.  Those clicks came again, deep in his throat like a strange animal. Anessa felt stupid as she peaked over the mound to watch him.

_Click, click, click._

He turns his head.  

_Click, click, click._

He turns it again.

Was this thing blind?  She knew it could see, it had to somehow.  It reacted to her facial expressions, at least it appeared that it did.  Like lightning his head snapped to her direction, and in an instant she goes prone.  

_Oh no...oh please no don’t see me please..._

Fingers clawed the wood, and oak moaned as the bark splintered under his bare touch. Anessa shook—the power behind his blows could burst tree trunks. She was beneath those hands not long ago. He could have crushed her flesh, broken her bones with a squeeze of his hand. Holy shit, how was she even alive now?

“Anessa...” she heard her name whispered through the icy air. His voice was colder than the 23 degree weather, colder than the ice that was frosting inside the cavities of her open wound. “ _Anessssssa_...,” he cooed again, sweetly, hungrily. How did he know her name? That’s when she realized it.

She wasn’t a random pick from the flock. She wasn’t just the unlucky duckling that was at the wrong place at the right time. She was so much more than that. This was planned—she was the unlucky cattle chosen for some time now, waiting to be ripe for the picking. She clasps a hand around her mouth, eyes squeezing shut. Holy shit, this was all so much worse now. It was all so different.

“I smell you, Anessa.”

Her thoughts came to a stop when he said that, the sounds of him sniffing the air and sighing. “I smell your blood...I need it,” he growls into the air, relishing this moment. That smell.

 _Her_ smell.

“I **need**...to **eat**...!” His hands were shaking now, the excitement at its peak.  Another giggle—losing himself to his game was shameful but oh so worth it sometimes.  Anessa was no different than the rest at first, although he can’t say that now.  Something about her was like a rarity.  He knew she was different, no human tasted the same.  But some managed to peak his taste buds more than others.  Right now, she was by far his most prime of choices.  Releasing a deep sigh, his breath frosts around the entrance of his mouth.  “I know you’re there.”

Eyes rip open now, the cold getting to her as she began to shiver.  Or perhaps it was in fear, she wasn’t sure.  Her time was short again, and she didn’t have the energy to run.  Anessa’s bare hands dug around the snow, her fingers turning blue.  A rock, or maybe even a stick?  Anything would do right now.  Absolutely anything.  

“Enough hiding. I had my fun...”

Anessa glares into the snow, only just noticing the blood trail that drizzled out from her wound. It was why she was so damn tired. “Okay...” she spoke shakily.  When she stood she had a large stick in her left hand, barely supported by her shaky weak grip. He watched her circle around the mound, keeping a constant distance from him, limping all the way. The man, that monster, simply stared at her. “Do you think that can hurt me?”

“Go to hell.”

Jack grins, his long tongue lapping up the dry blood around his lips. He rose his hands, urging her to take the first shot with a curl of his fingers.

“Then why don’t you take me there, Anessa.”

She had no problem with that. Anessa stumblingly charges forward, swinging the branch over her head.

_**SMASH** _


	2. Resurgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Anessa lays unconscious, Eyeless Jack brings her back to a remote cabin far from civilization. He intends to ration her as meat for the winter, but as a vicious blizzard begins to brew outside he is left alone with foreign thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consistent writing helps my hands stay strong! My version of Eyeless Jack will be doing some strange things to come--sorry in advance for some cringe worthy concepts. In my defense, he is a monster after all. So we can't limit him to being a serial killer :v. Enjoy!

When Anessa opened her eyes, she felt nothing.  No cold.  No pain. 

The sky above her was transitioning into the pink streaks of dusk surrounded by the tall silhouettes of pine trees.  For a moment the picture was crystal clear, but then it faded.  She couldn’t focus on what was around her, because she felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness. 

_Where…am…_

She couldn’t finish the thought—what was she even thinking?  What happened…before all this?  It was all a blur, then and now.  Anessa felt like she was floating in water.  Completely weightless in body and mind.  Soon she became lost in that feeling, and in just moments she was fading into the blackness again. 

The stranger was dragging her along the snow, her left ankle trapped by his firm grip as he treaded along the trail that only he knew.  He didn’t have much to worry about—the woman was done.  That strike she made on him earlier left a bruised feeling on the side of his abdomen.  A grunt escapes his masked lips.  He hated when he got cocky.  It was a waste of time letting her land a hit freely, but Jack was curious.  He wanted to see all that she had, and it surprised him enough to make him tilt his head, but not enough to budge him.  Even after the branch splintered and burst into two did he still stand, unscathed, unaffected, and it left her mouth agape.  He could imagine the absolute horror in her eyes, and it made his skin tingle for the millionth time today. 

Such fun.

When the moment came, and it was time to earn his nightly fix, he couldn’t bring himself to slaughter the lamb.  Even at the peak of her fear, the peak he worked so hard to get her to, the peak that made them taste the most tender and fresh, he still didn’t kill her. 

Jack felt himself digging his nails into her ankle, earning a quiet grunt from his victim.  She stirred, enough to wake up and see the sky growing darker now.  Her eyes were glazed over, almost lifeless, but he could still see her frosted breaths exit slowly from her parted lips.  The blood loss was taking its toll.  By now, Jack knew she was feeling relaxed, perhaps warm.  Her pain most likely subsided into a numbing lull, and if she fell back into that deep sleep she would never wake up. 

Suddenly, Jack's mind burdened him with a thought.

“…”

Taking a last step, he pauses to look back at her, the rises of her chest having a dangerously long pause between.  He looked through his dark sockets, somehow being able to see her figure in the freezing cold snow, and noted how paper white her skin was.  Jack gave her ankle another squeeze, almost to the point of snapping the bone, but it didn’t yield anything but a light gasp.  His jaw clenches, and he grinds his sharp teeth in thought.  If he let her die now, he could simply store the meat.  That way he had enough to last him the month. 

Something inside was telling him how disappointing that thought was, but he couldn’t place his finger on the reasoning behind it.

Such a pretty little doll, though.  It made him feel…

_Feel._

Jack snarled, releasing the hold on her ankle.  Her leg drops into the snow, and he takes a step back. 

 _What was that…?_ He thought.  _What the hell was that?_

He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t something he was used to anymore.  Jack placed a hand over his mask, his claws treating the painted surface surprisingly gentle.  Take the bitch home, and **kill** it.  That was it, that was all.  There was nothing else to do, nothing else to think, and nothing else to say.

Jack watched her for a moment between his grey fingers that latched over the holes of his mask, envisioning a time he remembered two weeks ago.  She found a dying deer in the forest, a dying deer he had left behind.  That evening, Jack wasn’t done with it.  He had just started his slaughter, but whoever lived in the cabin just beyond the forest line had returned home at an unusual time.  That was the first time Jack ever saw her—he knew of the home, but given how close it was to the National Park he didn’t dare approach it.  The chances of some lost fool entering the premises for help while he was killing his prey would ruin the mood.  Even though Jack passed by that house towards his hunting grounds on many occasions, not once did he ever set eyes on the owner.

When she heard the deer’s high pitch mewl, it’s dying sounds, rather than scaring her off it _drew_ her in.  Jack watched her from afar, observed her careful hands assessing the damage along it’s neck and abdomen, and when she noticed how far it was she did something he didn’t expect.  She pulled out a knife, and with a well thought incision she ended its life herself.

That moment, Jack was captivated.  The look in her face when she did that, caring yet calm and collected.  Like she’s done it before, like she wasn’t _afraid_ to do it _again_.  

Right now, he was her, and she was that dying deer. 

It could explain why she accepted her death not long ago, at least for a moment.  Jack rolls his attention over to the bag he had in his other hand.  It was surprisingly large, and made from a thick and reliable canvas.  Jack wondered why someone would be carrying around a sack like that.  He never really cared to look inside someone’s belongings, nor did he ever drag them along to his hideout.  Nothing inside them were ever of any use.  But this time he figured to dispose of it in a fire.  He didn’t want to leave it behind, providing clues to her possible whereabouts.  He wasn’t worried for the blood since a blizzard was coming tonight.  But her bag would remain throughout the winter, and be found by early spring the coming year. 

His curiosity was getting the best of him, a thing that never took over before, and grudgingly he picks up her foot again before dragging her deeper into the woods. 

Far in, miles beyond any hiking trail, there was a small home.  It was old, perhaps older than the towns built around it.  Jack never discovered its origins or history.  One day he stumbled upon it, smelt the rotting wood a rainy summer day when he desired shelter.  It was a decent place, he thought.  Jack cared less for running water, for electricity.  He never had such trivial things.  This dilapidated structure was perfect for him, so he made it his home many years ago.  The front door moaned like cast iron, the roof having curved in from all the moss and debris that rested upon it.  Inside was dark and dank, mildew having died from the cold winter air.  Jack’s steps echoed, and soon the sound of her body dragging after him filled the dead air.  Her leg drops like a log, and Jack leaves her in the main room to shut the door again. 

Silence, except for the blizzard wind that was picking up outside.  It made the house shiver, rattle, and moan.  Noises that he grew used to.  Jack breathed slowly, his body still facing the door, and he takes a moment to finally turn and look at her. 

“…” she was still unconscious, even as he began to circle around her.  His tall figure loomed like one of the many trees outside, staring down at her helpless state, and then Jack thought.

 _Now what shall I do with you?_  

Should he kill her?  Now, and it what way?

The bag was still in his hand, and he took a moment to gander at it.  He could see the Tennessee flag stitched along the side, and the multitude of pockets that adorned the base of the rucksack.  He could see the print of a mountain stamped along the front, and along the top there was a name embroidered in thick black letters that spelt the name **_MILCH_**.  Jack scans the room: dark, lonely, and with some old wooden furniture in places that he never moved them from.  He had little time to waste now, very little.  He could tell by the sound of her heart.  Jack inhales, trusting only his ears.

Total focus.

_Ba dum……ba dum……ba dum._

He had very little time to waste, very little.  With haste he hoists her body over his shoulder, tossing the rucksack carelessly to the side only for it to land under a dining style table nearby.  Deeper within the house there was a bathroom, a place where dirt and grime covered more than any other spot in the house.  There a tub, far from pristine, was vintage and made from cast iron.  It was freezing cold to the touch, and even when that cold grazed her face she still was deep in her slumber.  With careful sharp claws he zips opens her parka, exposing her torn wool shirt beneath.  It became cold and clammy, and absorbed most of what she bled out.  The sound of her jacket landing behind him echoed through the creaky house; her shirt and pants soon followed.  He strips her bare, down to just her pale skin.  Just then the winds began to pick up, the home moaning like a submarine beneath the sea. 

Jack looks down at her naked form and tilts his head to the left.

He takes a breath.

Then tilts it to the right.

She looked so bare and innocent, he thought.  A skilled hand reaches over to retrieve a very long knife, one caked with black and grime that matched the stains along the tub.  The black was, in fact, old blood.  Old blood he didn’t even care to remove.  He was ready now.  Quartering was his forte, a trick he learned from observing human hunters once.  Carefully he will cut her into four pieces: starting with splitting the hips, removing the legs, and then leaving the chest and navel area as a third piece.  The head he never ate, he felt it was a waste of time.  For those he especially enjoyed, he would save the teeth or maybe a bone or two.  But over time he would burn those as well, growing bored of his trophies and not understanding the luxury of it. 

Jack hunches over, taking a firm grip of her inner thigh before floating the blade a mere inch below her groin. 

Then he stalls.

“…” 

His head tilts down, and he stared puzzling at her belly button.  _Why_...?

Why was he having _these_ many doubts?

The internal clock within him clicked—ten minutes of nothing passed.  He didn’t budge, he didn’t utter a noise, he simply stood there in some sort of deep thought.  A constant debated rattled through his head, a debate of whether to go with it or not.  There was no reason not to other than a fear of regret.  He wasn’t sure just _why_ that fear was there, just why that concern bothered him so much.  He can't do this, he _shouldn't_ do this.  But oddly enough, he _wanted_ to do this.  Not quartering, not feasting, but _play_ along to whatever mystery desires enchanted his psyche.  

Finally, he moves, and it’s to take a hold of her cheeks.  Grabbing her face, he tilts it up to look at him.

She was dead.

“… **shit** ,” a sound like a growl rumbles from his throat as he pulls up his mask.  It clatters onto the ground along with the steel knife, and the monster hunches forward.  Fingers dug into her hair, dark locks lacing between blood coated talons, and as he arches her head back to look at him, his back begins to hunch further.  Jack grunts, and then gags, and finally after several convulses his jaw flings open.  He retches onto her, hot black liquid splattering from his mouth on her neck and chest. 

The smell was toxic, and the consistency thick and putrid.  It coated her like coagulated ink, encasing her perky breasts and pooling into her navel.  A few bits splattered onto her lips, slipping down her throat, staining her teeth.  Jack arches his head up finally, inhaling sharply between his inky coated fangs.  Sweet air filled his lungs, and another animalistic noise fills the room as he settles down from the unnerving feeling that overwhelmed him.  Jack hadn’t done that in a long time: it was painful and nauseating. 

Slowly his head arches down, and he stares at her still face.  “ _Wake up,_ ” he whispers, his voice like a dense fog as he coaxes her with a few kneads of his thumb.  It took a while, but Jack was patient.  He continued to stimulate her scalp, her thighs.  After some time Anessa releases a painful gasp, her eyes shooting open for a moment.  Jack grins, watching the sight of her nude body writhing to life in his sickness.  Her eyes were glued to the battered ceiling, her bad shoulder twitching inward in pain, and in the tub of mess she lets of a cracked moan.  She didn’t even notice him, she couldn’t.  The sensations she was having were indescribable.  It was something even Jack couldn’t put into words, only because it was something he had felt many times before.  If he had to try, he would say that it was simply unsettling.  Like being pulling inside out and then back to normal.  Like seeing hell, and suffering in it before forcefully being pulled back into a painful reality.  Jack leans back, watching every moment with that sick pleasure of his, and again he found himself confused as to why he loved watching her so much.  Jack was a logical hunter, an emotionless one.  He wasn’t a human, for he had no human desires.  In yet he was here, staring at her, adoring her body.  She suffers like this, shivering under his touch, his stare, until finally she drifts off painfully into sleep.  But she was breathing now, she was breathing and alive. 

“Good little deer,” he almost purrs, kneeling to lift her up and out of the tub.  Dark liquid runs along her legs, dripping to the ground as he carries her out of the bathroom.  Jack hadn’t done that in a very, very long time.  Walking through his little settlement he thought of himself, disgusted at how excited he was.  How _eager_ he was for when she would awaken. 

_No…what am I doing?_

Jack kept surprising himself with all of it.  Whilst cleaning her he thought a terribly alarming amount.  Being alone here, in the cabin, he rarely ever thought this deeply.  He would think of his next hunt, his next meal, preparing for the coming season.  He would think about what humans did around this time, about how quickly the nearby creak would ice over, about precautions in case he were ever found.  Cleaning up the last bit of blood off of her, he finds a roll of gauze within the front compartment of her rucksack.  With that, he wraps her arm wound.  Why he was nursing her, he tried not to concern himself with that question.  _Fine,_ he thought, _I'll have my fun._ Jack's life has been the same mundane pattern for many years, not that he had a problem with that.  But he decides that perhaps it was okay to let things get out of his line of perfection just once in a while.  Not that it would be a problem.  He’ll kill her soon, he promised himself that.  It all better be worth it, though.  In the end, she better be the **best** damn tasting meal he’d ever tasted.  


	3. Disparage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blizzard outside begins to form. Eyeless Jack makes an interesting discovery about his captive, but her headstrong nature forces him to express his boundaries and limitations.

 

_In.  Out._

There was a light buzzing in her ear. Anessa felt the cold coming back now. It crept up on her slowly. Her hairs stood, and the sound of strong winds outside ramming against the small shack dragged her from a deep sleep. It was like a constant whistle that accompanied popping wood.

Anessa felt very cold, and when she barely opens her eyes she noticed her breath. It was like a mist that dispersed in the air. A candle was lit on the table, already half way melted down, and below it was a giant mound of white wax from the many candles that sat before it.

_In. Out._

Anessa knew she heard breathing. It was slow and ever so quiet, and it sounded off. Like each slow and steady breath was confined in something. She noticed the dark figure in front of her, sitting still in the shadows, and she realized she must have heard it’s breathing from beneath the blue mask. Light casted on it, dancing along the curves and scars and dents, and if it weren’t for that then she wouldn’t have noticed it in the first place. Anessa’s eyes didn’t tear from the form—she didn’t them want to. The thought of it disappearing, or approaching, or even moving once she looked away kept her from even trying.  The image of him looming over her, black liquid hanging from his lips was blurry, and she couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not.  For a moment she swore she remembered feeling extreme pain, and then directly after feeling the warmth of another’s body.  The cold didn’t go ignored, and soon she started shivering.  Muscles tensed painfully as she attempted to contain her body’s futile attempts to keep warm.  If it weren’t for the shivering, she would pretend to be asleep.  At least then she would have time to think about what to do.

Suddenly, Anessa grunts.  Her shoulder ached profusely, more than she could ever imagine.  Anessa bites down hard on her tongue, her eyes squeezing shut as her head hung low in silent misery.  The pain, it was too much.  It hurt from her breast down to her knuckles.  She just wanted to rip her arm off, that way it would stop hurting.  Whispering a silent curse, she steadies her breathing to a slow pace.

_In.  Out.  In.  Out._

Soon she found her pace.  Shaky, but calm.   

“Are you afraid?”

The voice shattered her concentration too quickly.  It was like a breeze of cold air—it made the ends of her hairs stand.  Smooth and silky, yet with a malice that was so evident.  She shivers again, not from the cold, but from that voice.

 _He_ was talking to her now, much to her dismay.  Anessa's initial reaction was to not respond, to keep her mouth shut.  But the way he waited, the way he waited _patiently_.  She felt like, for her life's sake, that she didn't have an option.

“…Yes,” she admitted dryly.  

Anessa wasn’t trying to sound brave—she didn't see a point in that.  Right now she was terrified.  Absolutely, completely petrified.  The sight of… ** _it_** …made her want to run far away.  Run, and not stop, until her legs fell off.  But she felt the rope binding around her, and though she could have easily tried to shake herself free she didn’t.  Because if she were to slip away and sprint for the door, he would catch her before she could hop from the old chair. 

Another gust of wind, stronger than all the last, bombards the west side of the building.  Anessa’s eyes dart towards the direction, her body leaning into her chair in raw fear.  _Oh no,_ she thought, her teeth biting down hard on her bottom lip. 

_It can't be the storm...already?  But that means I've been out for a whole day..._

It was the same blizzard that the town had been preparing for days, and now she was trapped in this small building with him and no way to escape.  She worried that a window would give out, that the gusts would come in and destroy the strange mix of a hell hole and safe haven.  She worried that the cold wouldn’t get to her before that monster could.  That she wouldn’t be able to die blissfully in frostbite…

…but instead become a winter feast.

A chuckle crawled up her spine, forcing her to draw her attention towards it’s source.  The man, at least Anessa wasn’t sure if she could consider it that, was leaning towards the table now.  Towards her, with an arm outstretched and resting on the surface.  He was watching her shivering body, seeing the confusion and worry that plagued her face, and it made him want to laugh all the more.

“The blizzard is the least of your worries.”

He said it calmly, matter-of-factly, and then leans back to cross his arms over his chest.  Anessa was looking at him again, dark circles around her eyes as she struggles to find some sort of response.  Nothing came to mind, so she bit down hard on her tongue. 

Cold—she was so cold.

She heard a zipping noise, though she continued to ignore whatever was going on around her.  Something was in his grasp, and as he shuffled around in the dark she noticed something familiar in his hands.  Jack retrieves a leather bi-fold, brown in color and slightly aged from wear and tear.  He flips it open, pulling at the cards, tossing them one by one out onto the table.  Finally, after some time, he picks one of interest.  Grey fingers slid an ID across oak wood until it’s laminated surface shined in the candle light.   It was her professional ID, rather than her state issued one.

Truthfully, Anessa was too busy staring at his hand.  The sight of his skin made her heart race.  It was like she suddenly remembered the color of him, but the nails…curved and thick like that of a panther.  Lips parted, her jaw chattering as the temperature continued to drop outside. 

“Police Officer?” he asked, and Anessa was slow to react. 

He drums his fingers along the table, along her ID, and it made her eyes dart back up to his face. 

“…Park Ranger,” she corrected him, her meek voice rough from dehydration.  Jack’s fingers halt from their movements, and it worries Anessa enough to make her mouth taste like sick up.  As his arm slithers back towards her rucksack, she watches him retrieve her pistol.  Anessa grunts, her head lowering as he observes the metal in his grasp.  He held it to the light, tilted it here and there, and even made a noise that sounded like sniffing.

“Does a park ranger often carry one of these?” he sounded unconvinced.  When Anessa nods he hums in thought, kicking back and leaning into his chair with her gun still in his hand.  “…” he was silent, staring at the weapon, admiring its ingenuity and design, and judging its purpose.  Its existence. 

He listens to her heart beat, an uneven pace, “Such useless machines these _humans_ made.” 

_Humans?_

Anessa wasn’t sure what this man meant, or what he was.  He lived here, in the middle of nowhere she assumed.  He wasn’t cold, otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting so still.  So comfortable.  How was he?  It was at least thirty degrees in the room.  By now, her eyes had adjusted.  She could see the lack of appliances, of furniture.  She noticed how everything seemed old—every item, every plank was a relic.  This place was inhabitable, Anessa presumed.  There was no way someone could survive in this without the proper supplies.  Right now, she was freezing.  She was freezing and if she receives doesn’t some sort of warmth soon she was going to die in that chair.  The man, he wore the same clothes as before.  She could make out the darker tones of his dark grey jacket as stains, some of which most likely being her blood.    

She remembered the feeling of when she pushed her finger in his eye.  She remembered him pulling off the mask to see that he had _no eyes_.  And she wondered just how that was possible.  Panic was rushing in like ocean waves, and Anessa struggled to suppress her fears. 

At least her shirt wasn’t clammy anymore, but instead it became crusty.  Gauze wrapped tightly around her underarm and shoulder, having absorbed the old blood and drying into a discomfortingly rough texture.  That pain came back, right when she thought about it, and she just wished she wasn’t so weary.  If it weren’t for the blood loss, the wound, she would stand at least some sort of chance against…that _thing_. 

Right now, he was eyeing her gun still, taking solace in the silence and enjoying her suffering.  The way he turned her gun this way and that, casually like this was just another average day for him—it made her think this was all just a nightmare spawned from those horror movies she watched growing up.  A huge, vivid nightmare. 

_I’m…I’m so tired…_

It had been five minutes since he said how pathetic human machinery was.  Anessa wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was starting to get sleepy again.

_No, you can’t sleep.  If you sleep, you won’t wake up._

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Anessa spoke up, voice sluggish as she rolls her eyes towards the candle.  The dancing light looked warm and inviting, and it helped her regain some consciousness. 

Jack’s head snaps to look at her, a bony crack erupting from his neck at such a vigorous motion.   He looked so inhuman, it scared her shitless, but she had to say awake.  Talking was the only thing that came to mind.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, because if that gun was in my hands you wouldn’t be the one in charge,” she stutters, heavy eyes fluttering open as she shakes her head.  Sleep was like a heavy comforter, and it was slowly draping over her.  She had to fight it, had to prevent from giving in.  Anessa would rather die in her sleep than be slaughtered, but the thought of him eating her once her end came left a sour taste in her mouth.

She’d chose to die fighting over taking the easy way.

When a few seconds passed Anessa figured that he was ignoring her.  When stands it was out of nowhere, his tall body stalking around the table towards her, and Anessa stared with doe eyes.  She shakes her head, mouthing _no_ over and over, and when he takes a handful of her hair and yanks her head back she lets out a cracked yelp.  Jack fires the gun twice, bullets digging into the floor boards, and the sound was so loud as the chamber burst by her ears.  The ringing sound followed, silencing everything.  Anessa didn’t notice her own terrified cries before her senses slowly came back.  Soon she heard herself, and then the blizzard roaring on outside.  Jack didn’t move, didn’t make a noise, he just stared down at her while she gasped for air between sobs. 

“Have you reconsidered what you said, Anessa?” Jack simply said, his voice a mix of calm and charming.  He sounded like a father politely reprimanding their child.  It sickened her as she sneered through her endless tears.

“Not in the slightest...”

"..." Jack sighs and points the gun to her leg. 

**BANG.**

Anessa’s screams filled the cabin, her teeth clenching together at an incredible force.  He releases her scalp, a little forcefully, before returning to his side of the table to sit down.  “Manners maketh good company, Anessa,” Jack said through her strings of curses, slowly sitting back down on his respectful chair only to dig into her belongings again.  It didn’t take long until her screams of agony subsided into something between seething and wallowing, her heavy gasps evident that she was struggling to end whatever panic was coursing through her.  Right now, Jack could smell her adrenaline, smell her blood, smell her tears.  It was something he enjoyed; an aroma that was unmatchable for his tastes. 

The quivering sound of her lips was something he liked too, and as Anessa’s injured thigh began to shake he could hear the drops of blood pattering onto the ground.  “Fuck…fuck…” Anessa groans, her whimpers so soft and gentle.  It was interesting how someone so strong willed could be rendered into a helpless mess once pain was introduced.  The psychology of it was fascinating for Jack, much more fascinating than her luggage.  But he searched through it nonetheless, his interesting in her driving him. 

A map of the Smoky Mountains was amongst the piles of junk, laminated and folded into six parts.  He figured it was worth keeping, finding it valuable in his research of the less familiar areas.  Next was a small can of mace, but upon further inspection Jack realized it was bear spray. 

 _Nasty stuff,_ he thought.  He smelt it before when coming across an area that had remnants.  It burned his nose, and drove him to relocate. 

Some small med pack, granola bars, beef jerky, glow sticks.

There was much more, but the last thing of interest was a flare gun.  Jack took a breath, observed the orange pistol before tightening his grip around it.  He wondered if someone could see it from where they were.  At night, he wouldn’t doubt it. Jack looked at Anessa, her forehead pressed against the rim of the table, her body shaking.    

Truthfully, he didn’t plan beyond this point.  The thought of finding a gun in her rucksack didn’t cross his mind, nor did the thought of using it.  It proved a point, at least.  Now she was silent, and Jack recognized that she was smart enough to understand what boundaries were.  Muscles ached, her body compressed into itself as if she were pressed into a small box.  The ropes around her arms were digging through the wool shirt, tugging at her already sensitive skin.   

“Are you cold, Anessa?”

Reluctantly she tilts her head up, and he could barely notice her brown eyes from beneath all her messy dark hair.  For whatever human reason, she doesn’t say anything.  “…” Jack felt an urge to growl creep up on him, but instead he remains silent himself.  Placing her stuff down, Jack stands again.  Claws cut the binding around her torso, and when she felt his rough touch on her shoulders she couldn’t fight back the urge to scream.  “ **No**!  No, let me go!” she kicks, the hold on her good arm too strong to resist.  When weight was forced onto her injured leg there was a pain that branched throughout her body.  Anessa shakes her head, hot tears never yielding.  “Stop, my leg!  Dammit, it hurts I-I can’t…!”  Anessa felt herself clinging onto him, not wanting to be dragged again, but Jack distanced himself from her grasp.  Anessa hits the ground, and he didn’t slow down for her.  When they reached the living room there was a trail of blood following, and Jack drew her in towards the old stone fireplace.  She could hear chains rattling, and when the cold touch of metal encased her ankle she felt like a cat stuck in a cage.  Once he released her, she mustered up all the strength she had left to stand and bolt for the door.  Yet, she only had three feet of moving room.  With a painful tug Anessa came crashing down again, her chest hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

“ **Fuck**!" she furiously kicks the chains, hands digging around the sore flesh of her bare ankle.  It was on tight, squeezing the life out of her bones and grinding against her skin.  The more she fiercely struggled, the more it turned raw.  Jack just watched, disgusted by it all.  Humans were like animals—no, they _were_ animals.  This sight was solid proof.  Jack retrieves the candle from the table, only a small bit left to melt.  He approaches her before placing it just outside of her reach.  Anessa froze under his gaze, watching the dark holes of his mask as that black liquid shimmered along the brim.  It made her stomach flip, and if it weren’t for the absolute pain she felt she would have been lost in fear to those eyes. 

“ **I** … **hate** … **being** … **ignored** ,” his words were cruel, and his voice was like ice.  Anessa cowers suddenly, much to her dismay.  But Jack straightens his form, glaring down at her, his knuckles cracking at the sight of her pathetic form.  “Don’t expect to be getting out, you wretched thing.  You’ll **die** like the stubborn doe you are.”  He turned to make his leave for another location in the house, ignoring the look in her eyes as he approached a room off to the side. 

Something snapped inside of Anessa—a sudden fear.  If he left her there with nothing, no food or at the very least a blanket, she was going to die in little time.  “N-No..no, no!  C-Come back!  Wait!”

But he was already gone, the door shutting behind him.  “Wait…come back…!” she screams, pounding on the wooden ground.  Absolute silence surrounds her.  Anessa gasps, her arms numbing as the cold engulfed her form in its entirety.  “Shit…shit, shit…” she shivers, a hand pressing hard onto her thigh.  She was going to die, holy shit she was going to die…!

“N-No…you're okay,” she takes her shirt between her teeth, tearing off the edge.  With a poor makeshift wrap she adds pressure to the bullet wound, a pained sob slipping through her clenched jaw.  Blood was oozing out, but luckily for her he missed the both main artery and the bone.  A small pool of blood was forming around her, but with the injury wrapped the bleeding slowed down to an average amount.  Now, Anessa worried about the cold.  Anessa didn’t know what else was in reach, but the candle was the only thing to bring comfort to such a desperate time.  She dragged herself as close as she could, and it took a couple minutes of reaching with her finger tips. 

“Come on, dammit,” she snarls, edging through the pain.  So close, yet so far.  “ _Come on…!_ ”  The candle tilts, falling over, and Anessa feels the panic in her chest about to burst.  But the flame only faltered for a moment, and she gives it some time to rekindle before she rolls it over. 

“C-Come on little fire,” her jaw clatters, breaths scattered as she holds the fire close to her chest.  It was warm, oh so warm.  Only a quarter was left—it wouldn’t last long.  Still, it was comforting.  It lit up a small amount of the living room, enough for her to distract herself from all the pain.  She looked around, jerking with every powerful shift that the house made.  The blizzard was just outside.

Twenty-six degrees.  That’s what her watch told her.

“…don’t die,” she whispers, relishing the burning sensation of candle wax on her fingers.  “Don’t die… _c'mon Anessa_...”   

For a while she sat there, listening for some kind of noise other than the weather outside.  She was afraid for when he came back.  But whatever he was doing, it was discreetly.  She couldn't hear a thing--no footsteps, no voices, not even the sound of clutter being moved.   _Maybe he's asleep,_ she thought, shaking like one of the many pines of an evergreen.  Anessa had too many questions, questions that were never going to be answered.  "Oh...fucking hell," she groans, her throat sore from all the crying she'd been doing.  The pain--it was unbearable.  She felt so much pain.  She just wanted to sleep, but that was a death sentence.  For now, she was going to sit there with the candle and count the seconds once she was done counting the imperfections in the floor boards.  That should keep her awake, at least until he came back.


	4. A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa's body reaches stage three hypothermia. Just when she is about to suffer from terrible frostbite, Jack returns to subtly tend to her desperate needs. He is hungry, but is he ready to give in to his desire for flesh?

 

It was nighttime now.  Jack’s consciousness came back like a flip of a night switch.  There were times where he needed to rest—needed to regain his energy.  He never slept, he couldn’t.  It wasn’t physically possible for him.

Right now, he was sitting on a chair, the same chair he had been ever since he separated himself from the human chained to the fireplace.  There he sat for about three hours, catatonic, his breathing halting and his body temperature dropping.  For that time, he was like a corpse.  Jack listened in, his hearing sharper than any animal’s, and he could hear what sounded like small breathes beyond the snow storm. 

It’s been a good amount of time, he thought.  He should have enough energy to last him a while, and she should be exhausted enough to not put up much of a fight.  Jack stood, his joints cracking.  When the room door creaked open like an old barn, Anessa’s eyes shot open.  For the first time in over two hours there was light.  An old gas lantern was swinging in his hold, the light warm and radiant.  The candle had burnt out long ago, and as Jack approached her he noticed her shivering body huddled up besides the fireplace.  Blood smeared on the ground, sticky and shiny, and it coated her grey pantlegs.  Anessa shivers, staring at him with weak eyes, and like when she was brought back from the dead her skin was gaunt and pale. 

“Hello,” Jack said smoothly, his steps so heavy that they shook the ground beneath her.  “How do you feel?”

Her lips parted, a somber breath escaping her chattering lips. 

“P…P…Please… _s-so cold_ …” 

He steps towards her, but she was in too weak of a state to react or care.  Jack hunched down to her level now, staring deep into her expression.  She wished she knew what he was thinking, or at least his expression.  All she could see was a mask, the fading paint smeared with that black stuff.  “Please,” she whispers again, her desperate pleas pulling his heart strings, but not in the ways she’d hope for.  He tilts his head, like he always seemed to do: curiously, amused. 

As Jake spoke he, too, whispered.  But it was an unnerving sound.  She could hear the smile on his face, the pleasure he was getting in all of it, but it was concealed by both his mask and his collected tone. 

“Will you be good?” 

Anessa felt like a dog being punished—it took her a while to realize that this was all a ruse.  Psychological conditioning; he was training her.  Training her to be how he wanted her to be.  Anessa tried to find that perfect medium of strong willed and weakly willing.  She had to keep her sanity, her thoughts straight and accurate, yet she also needed to survive. 

“Yes…yes, I’ll be good,” she hated the cowering sound she had.  She hated how afraid she was.  If it weren't for it being a mindless monster she would be so ashamed of herself.  But Anessa gave herself a break.  This was a self-aware, intelligent being.  Her fingers wrapped into weak fists, her hands shaking viciously, and that didn’t go unnoticed to Jack.

But he let it slide, chuckling as he stood up to turn and leave. 

Anessa watched him retreating, eyes wide with a horror that was creeping up on her.  Where was he going?  Was he going to leave again?  Any other thoughts she had dispersed, because she was just so dizzy.  “Don’t sleep, don’t sleep,” she repeated to herself, hands rubbing together as she exhaled into them for the umpteenth time.  When Jack came back she barely even noticed, being too busy keeping herself warm.  Logs clanked against one another, stacking against each other in the fireplace.  Fir logs lasted long, and with the birch bark he had the fire would start fast.  Anessa smelt the scent of sulfur.  It was something that bought her worry when she would make rounds in the park, when she smelt the scent of a campfire blowing in the air.  Here, it was a marvelous smell.  For now, she had to wait until he got the fire going. In the meantime, she peaked from behind her corner of the large fireplace to watch him.  In the faint light of the gas lamp she saw his features.  Still, he wore the same clothes.  She didn’t get to see much more of him than what she had before, so instead she studied the features that she didn’t quite get to.  His neck was exposed, given his hood wasn’t tightly fastened around his face. 

Like the rest of him it was grey—a light, cool grey.  She saw the way it tensed with each movement he made.  Muscles were identical to hers, there was a beating where his jugular sat beneath thick skin.  He even had a prominent Adam’s Apple.  It _looked_ like a man.  It sounded like a man.  It moved like a man.  The crackling sound of a fire began to mask the howling winds outside, and soon the radiant orange glow cascaded around the living room.  As Jack stands he was courteous enough to take a step back for her.  Anessa wasn’t reluctant to crawl before the flames, although she felt like she should have been.  Hot air slammed into her body, wrapping around her and blowing her hair back behind her shoulders.  She couldn’t resist the moan that escaped her lips, a moan of sheer bliss merging with the pain that came from all the moving she just did.  Shakily she reaches her hands forward, closer to the flames, but not too close.

_It feels so good._

That aching cold feeling was going away, slowly.  Studying the tips of her fingers she noticed the void of natural color.  Instead of the fleshy pink they were now white and swelling.  No—she didn’t want to have frostbite.  She can’t lose her fingers.  She would be helpless.  “Shit,” she slips out a curse, bending each joint in her hand to get the blood flowing.  A sudden ache took over both palms, and she hunches forward into herself to suppress a scream.  “God… **damn** it…!”

Thirty minutes pass.  There were a few occasions where she felt paranoid.  What if he pushed her into the fire while she wasn’t look?  What if he came out with a knife and slit her throat?  Anessa was too scared to turn around; she was in constant fear of him coming up behind her.  She didn't want to see the boogeyman creeping up behind her. Still, she faced the fire, grateful that the bastard was capable of at least giving her that.  Somewhere in the room he was sitting, because she remembered hearing the creak of a chair as he sat in one of the dark corners.  Since then there had been no human—or inhuman—noises. 

**BOOM.**

The wind whiplashed the wood shutters that covered up the windows.  At one point before their encounter he must have hung them up prior to the storm’s arrival.  Anessa wondered how he kept up with the news.  He had no connection out here in the wilderness, and of course no electricity.  Perhaps he was a good eavesdropper? 

The thought of him stalking her in the past made her gaze narrow.  Pop, pop, popping wood spat bright dots of blazing soot into the air.  They danced like fireflies, drifting around the open space of the fireplace.  A few touched her face, burning her cheeks, and they were like ember kisses.  Anessa looked at her fingers, swollen still, and she was worried.  If they swelled any more then she’d know their fate.  But as of now it was a completely mystery, and that only added to her long list of things to worry about.  The fireplace was built from river rocks all stacked intricately on top one another.  They lost their smooth texture, now rough and sandy from the lack of water polishing the edges.  Above it was a skull of a deer, it’s horns arched like the branches of an old tree.  It looked down at her, marrow an off-color of white and coated with a thick layer of dust.  Brown eyes inched over, and without turning her head she peaks to try and see him.

A weathered boot was in view, with black laces and dirty tanned lining.  He had big feet, probably a men’s size 13.  Dirty brown pants tattered with cuts wrapped around his legs, which were wide apart as he sat in total silence.  Something strikes her as odd—he had duct tape wrapped around his right thigh.  The rest of him was out of view, but she did see his hands were stuffed in the front pocket of his cotton jacket.

“…who are you,” she finally asked question number one.  The question that’s been eating at her since the moment she felt an arm wrap around her waist before reeling her into the depths of the forest.

She noticed his arm shift, the tip of his foot dig into the ground before angling towards her direction.  The silence was something that still irked her, still made her terrified, but his voice had the totally same effect.  Anessa figured that her psyche was fucked, nonetheless.  When she heard the chair creek, she knew he had gotten up.  Foot steps were agonizing slow as they neared her, each one’s vibrations stronger than the last.  Behind her he kneeled, within her shadow, and he sat there ever so still. 

“ _And why…should I tell you_ ,” she didn’t feel his breath, but she felt his warmth.  If it were anybody else’s then it would be comforting.  But it wasn’t—it was his.  And it made her scared.  A lump of fear swelled up in her throat.  Regret strangled all the air from her lungs, and she was subconsciously bracing herself for something to happen. 

“Because…you know who I am.”

Anessa took a shaky breath, her head tilting down to feel more of the heat licking her skin.  “It’s…only fair,” she was trying to find the right things to say, but nothing made sense right now.  It all seemed so fucking wrong.  One giant mistake. 

A chuckle, deep and thick, came from him.  She swore she felt it rattle her bones, and she heard his arm move.  But instead of a strike, or a stab, or anything terrible of the sort, he gently places his flat palm between her should blades. 

Anessa gasped, her eyes so wide open that it hurt.  Hot air burned, the soot even stinging her sclera, but she couldn’t bring herself to blink.  His touch, it was warm.  Very warm.  Somehow, he wasn’t cold at all.  Not even the tips of his fingers.  Sharp nails slipped through her fabric, tickling her bare back beneath.  Anessa’s throat tightened—it was like having five knives pressed against her.

“ _Eyeless…Jack,_ ” his misty voice sounded both horrifying and mystical.  Anessa’s brows arch together, her eyes darting amongst the flames in thought.

_Eyeless…Jack?_   What did that mean?  The name didn’t ring any bells at all.  His hand drifts down, impossibly gentle.  Somehow, he didn’t tear her shirt open.  She felt him pass her bra line, and he dragged his touch all the way down to the small curve of her back.  When his touch left her, she closed her eyes finally, the dry sting bringing tears that sat on the edges of her lashes.  She could feel his heat disappear, and soon he was walking towards the kitchen table where her rucksack waited. 

"... _what_ are you," she dared to ask her real question. 

Jack didn't respond, being too busy staring at her belongings.  _What are you?_ That question rung in his head.  He'd answer if he knew exactly _what_ he was.  But he didn't quite know the science behind it, just the obvious truth.  The edges of his lips tickled upward when he thought of a proper answer, the grumble in his stomach loud and obnoxious and painful.  Jack felt...hungry.  That was a dangerous feeling for Anessa to face; it was adorable that she didn't understand what he was.  The fear that drove her curiosity, oh...it made him so _eager_.

“Do you wonder how your name came to my knowledge, Anessa?”

As she reaches the table he lifts her wallet again, flipping it open to see a Park Ranger badge.  It shimmered gold, the texture smooth and pristine.  Jack so see a disfigured reflection of himself along the bumpy edges.  Anessa didn’t answer, but her eyes never left the fire.  The look on her face was uncomfortable, fearful.  The tip of her nose was red, her nostrils wet.  Anessa bites down on her lip to taste her fresh tears mix with the old ones. 

“Because…I’ve been watching you for many months now,” Jack said nonchalantly, turning his gaze up to stare over his broad shoulder.  Anessa looked scared, her hands placed messily on her bloody lap.  Cheek bones shined from the clear liquid that coated them.  Jack could smell her tears, like salt water and sugar, and it invigorated his senses. 

**STOMP.**

Anessa jumps, her head snapping over to see him swiftly making way towards her.  "Are you sure you want to know what **I** am?"  Sharp claws grabbed her shoulders, pulling down her shirt to expose them from all the force he was using.  "I...am the top of the food chain...!  A perfect _predator,_ " he was chuckling to himself, reeling in her fears and basking in them with a disturbing pride that only a killer could relate to.  Anessa screams before it turns into panicked whines, and Jack was hunching over her like the hungry predator he sought out to be.  “I don’t know _why_ I waited so long for you.  I don’t know _why_ something so pathetic caught my eye, but I must admit you're just so _**fun** ,_” he sneers, digging a hand into her messy locks to crane her head back. 

That smell.  _Her_ smell.

It was breathtaking, unbelievable delicious.  Jack felt himself salivating a little too much, spit smearing along the inside of his mask.  He wanted a bite of her throat just watching it.  Trachea shaking as she gasped for her next cry, jugulars moving as they pumped blood to her frenzied brain.  Maybe he'd kill her now?  It felt like such an appropriate time.  A roaring fire to watch her blood glisten in, the symphony of screams and cries and moans of pain, all for him. 

Just for _him_.

He felt his fingers dig in deeper, puncturing the skin of her upper arm.  Another cry, and Jack was cackling at the sight.  The inhuman sounds he was making frightened her to death.  It was all so horrifying yet erotic, Jack thought.  Could it be that this was turning him on?  Jack felt aroused before during a hunt.  This wasn't the first time for it to happen, though it was never often.  But that burning sensation in his gut, in his loins: he didn't need to be a human to understand it.  He never viewed a hunt _this_ sexual before though, this enticing. 

Anessa takes a deep breath, silencing her cries into heaves of air.  Even though his claws were digging into her she managed to look straight at him. 

“Damn you…if you want it so bad then...just do it…!”

Like lightning speed, the mood changed for him.  Jack’s breathing halted, she could feel his grip on her lighten just by a fraction of the amount.  The two of them were gasping for air, like they’d been running a mile, like they’d used all of their energy mating.

“…” he wanted her to repeat herself, because he couldn’t quite believe what she said. 

As if she read his mind, Anessa’s gaze intensifies.  She glares at him, flaky lips sneering at the pain in her body.  “Stop playing with me and just **kill** me…”

The detest lacing every word as she spat them only irritated Jack more.  She could see his throat shift as he swallowed all the drool that built up in his mouth. 

“… _kill_ … _you?_ ”

That icy chill was back, tenfold.  That expression of abhorrence diminished into concern slowly; Anessa felt his grip tighten like a vice.  "You...you little **snake**!"  A moan of pain, and he was forcing her down with a hand wrapped rightly around her throat.  “A-Ah…!” she snarls, lungs clenching for sweet air.  “Didn't I  _warn_ you about using that little voice of yours, hmm?You don’t get to _decide_ when you **die!** ” Jack snarls, making a fist so tight that blood began to seep from between his fingers.  Those tears of hers welled up again, her cheeks a beat red.  Aching pale fingers couldn’t even wrap around his strong hand as he squeezed the life out of her.  With that blood hand of his he reaches between them, tearing at her bandaged thigh to grip painfully at the bullet hole he made. 

A piercing cry of pain peaks louder than the wind outside. 

"Feel this pain, and remember that this is what I will do to you," she could hear the spit in his voice, the poisonous truth behind every letter.  Five agonizing seconds pass, and when Jack releases her cowering form he storms away to disappear in the same room he had just came from.   The door slammed behind him, and Anessa was left alone to herself.

“Fuck…!”  Anessa coughs and rolls onto her side, breathing heavily the cold air that burned her lungs.  This was too much—he was too crazy, too unpredictable.  _Fucking calm down, dammit!_ She gasps hoarsely, eyes panning down to study what he had just done.  Thick blackness was smeared along her thigh, the wound fresh open and bleeding again. 

No, if she bled out any longer now she was done for.  She was going to die.  A stand of iron stood by the fireplace, a few instruments hanging from it.  She noticed the shovel, the small sweep, and a poker.  A cast iron poker. 

_You…gotta do it._

Standing on her feet she limps over to the fire, practically collapsing before it.  Anessa eyes his door, listening for movement.  Nothing, just silence again.  Reluctantly she unbuttons her pants and slips them down to her knees.  The wound was nasty and infectious looking already—she hoped it wasn’t.  All sorts of troubles came to her—what if he had a disease?  What if she got something from this?  A loud sniffle comes from her nose as she looks at her hands.  They were still in pain, but the swelling looked like it had gone down.  No blistering, no enlarging, and no blackened tips.  She makes a fist, releases, and then clenches again.  “Okay,” she hums nervously, shaking her twitching hand. 

Anessa doesn’t give herself time to think.  Fingers dug into the wound, wiggling around, nails clawing in.  She cried out, loud enough for Jack to hear.  She was scared he was going to come out and hit her, to tell her to stay quiet.  Metal touched the tip of her finger, warmed by the heat of her body.  Anessa pinches it, wiggling it out with some trouble.  It was a holopoint, the tip having expanded once it came in contact to her flesh.  Taking it out was going to be troublesome no matter what. 

“Come…on… **fucker**!”

Juicy red fingers came into her view, a silver bullet between them.  Anessa simmers, jaw locking up from all the pain.  It makes a click noise as she chucks it across the room.  The fire poker was the next thing on her list.  It was cold to the touch, but she plops the tip into the fire until it turned red hot.  This was the part she was afraid of—she didn’t know if it would hurt more or less.  Broken breaths turned more ragged when it was ready to use.  Lips parted with each sigh of anticipation. 

_No time to think.  Just get it over with._

When it made contact to her open flesh there was a hot sizzle and smoke, the smell of charred meat filling her nostrils.  Anessa cries out, her muscles tensing so hard, that when she was finally done and flung the hot poker away her body became limp.  Her back hits the floor with a loud thump, her hands reaching up to cover her face.  There, she writhed in agony.

Inside, Jack had been standing in the center of the room.  Head hanging low, he stared at his hands.  Fingers shook with an intensity, a violent intensity.  It was the perfect image of a madman in a dark, padded cell.  He was so riled up, so angry, so hungry.  Beyond that, it was something else.  He noticed the fabric of his pants, the bulge catching him off guard.  Jack rarely ever pitched a tent, at least noticed it this much.  When he did during those rare occasions on slaughtering women, it would always go away by the time he was done eating.  During that time, he was too distracted killing.  He never gave it that much of his attention, only when he pissed.  Staring at it only made him more upset.  Teeth clanked together like a hungry shark, and that agonizing grumble tore the inside of his stomach.  He wanted to **fucking eat.**

He could practically feel his stomach digesting it's own linings.  Supple flesh was right outside the door, weak and just screaming to be pulled apart.  What was he standing in this room for with an erection? 

Her screams of pain pull him from his thoughts, and so did the sound of metal clashing across the room.  Jack didn't expect her to have the balls to administer to herself, but she did.  "..." he was silent, as always.  _How...amusing_ , he thought.  Maybe this waiting wasn't as disappointing as he thought it would be.  Just a few days more.  She wasn't broken yet.  He wanted her to give in, to die utterly afraid of him.  Unwillingly, terribly, begging for mercy.  That's when they tasted the most _memorable._ "Soon," he sighs, finding his calm quickly and taking a seat in the same chair he'd hibernate in.  Soon, that's it.  It will be soon. 

_In out in out in out._

With every rise and fall of her ribcage, her heart beats a rapid five times.  It’s okay, she thought.  You’re done, you’re all done. 

_Why me…fuck, why me?!_

There wasn’t really a reason behind it all.  It was just pure irony.  She could feel the cold gaze of Jack, even when he wasn't watching.  Sticky hands reach down towards the rim of her pants, and like her joints were malfunctioning she struggles to wiggle into them.  Warily she tilts her head up, petrified that he was watching, but she saw no one.  The room was empty, and the door was still shut. 

_Thank God,_ she didn’t have the energy to speak.  Again, her hands came to shakily rest upon her face.  Heat returned, engulfing her sweating body, bringing her that warmth she’d been craving for so long.  At least the bleeding was stopped.  She didn’t bother worrying herself over the possibility of infection.  Sleep, she should just give into the sleep now.  Anessa didn’t mind that—she wanted to rest.  All her energy was gone now.  It was time to rest.

When the roar of the fire drifted her off into that peaceful nothingness, she finally allows her eyes to close for the night. 

 


	5. Fighting Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days pass. Anessa's condition is remarkably well, for reasons she can't even explain. Rather than making the miraculous news known, she keeps her bettering condition hidden from Jack. When the right time to strike comes, she will take the opportunity without question.

 

The second day was gratefully quieter than the last.

 

Jack was rummaging through the kitchen that day, collecting a few tools in different areas. One of which was a snow shovel, the others being a pair of pliers and a claw hammer. He puts a porcelain bowl on the floor with water and a towel before he went outside, and once Anessa heard the sound of shoveling she began to assess the damage on her leg.

 

To her surprise it wasn’t infected—there was no smell of rot or decay. It was swollen still, though, and the entrance of the bullet wound was agape from the shock of her stretching it yesterday. It still hurt like hell, but something about it was off. It wasn’t as raw as before, at least she thought so. Anessa never suffered from a bullet wound, however. Not once did she ever even see one outside of the movie effects. She didn’t know what was weirder though, the fact that it wasn’t puss over or the fact that Jack was outside tending his yard. Regardless, she tended to it. The towel was rolled up nicely, rough and aged to the touch. The water was freezing cold, but she was astonished he at least gave her something to clean herself with. Anessa soaks the towel, dabbing around the wound, whining and tearing up in pain before she wraps it up again. She put more attention to her torso and shoulder, ignoring the grime on her face. Anessa wanted the blood gone, wanted to feel clean. Even if he’s hurt her again, and that would most likely happen.

 

Jack came back an hour later, his jacket covered in snow. He shook like a dog, brown tufts of hair sticking from beneath his hood. He breathed heavily, sounding a little worn out. Anessa heard him outside the entire time, and he never took a break. Not long after he noticed the bloody water next to her and retrieved it. She asked for another, but her voice went unheard. Jack dumped the water before returning outside, and the rest of the day Anessa sat in silence. He had fed her a couple of granola bars and some water, satiating some of the ravenous hunger she was facing. A few words between her and Jack were exchanged, but not much.

 

The third day was the same.

 

Anessa sat, her injured leg outstretched while the other was folded beneath her. Jack awoke that day early like the last. It was around 5 AM, and as he made noise within the kitchen area she was pulled from her light sleep. Jack gave her the same bowl with new water as before, and this time Anessa said a quiet, “Thank you.”

 

Jack froze, staring at her as she dunked the towel in and rung out the water. Hesitantly he stalks away, entering the kitchen. Anessa cleaned herself, her wounds. Again, there was something odd about them. The redness was disappearing, and the entrance wasn’t as grim in appearance. Anessa grits her teeth, brows furrowing as she angled herself down to get a closer look. It wasn’t...that bad. She didn’t know if she should have been happy or dumbfounded. Anessa peaks up from behind her bangs, seeing what Jack was up to. He was besides a window, the cold morning sun shining through. A knife was in his hand, it’s surface a cloudy shade of silver. He rose up a sharpening stone, and as the two made contact it created a sharp scrape.

 

SHHHHHINK.

 

Releasing a breath she was holding, she looks down again before testing the sensitive tissues. It’s still hurt like hell when she pressed around it. A gasp of pain—she noticed Jack’s face angle towards her for a second. Their sights lock. Anessa bites down hard on her lip, and she struggles to ignore his intensity that was spreading across the room. Anessa moves for her shoulder now, the water not nearly as dirty as it was before. While cleaning her shoulder Jack came back, taking her bowl of water without warning. Retorting didn’t seem wise, so she kept her mouth shut. Some minutes passed, and Anessa swore she smelt a small fire.  Jack came back, the bowl steaming with warm water. He left as fast as he came, and Anessa wasn’t sure what to think.

 

It was most likely that conditioning tactic again: he was going to do something terrible soon. There wasn’t any reason for her to doubt it.

 

By the fourth day, she found a disturbing discovery.

 

Anessa woke up, like before, abruptly to the sound of Jack’s creaking door. Outside, the snow was falling, the morning sun faint and warm. But the air was still nippy, and she craved her morning fire. Anessa sat up, instantly being greeted by a powerful stomach ache. Eyes squeezed shut, a sigh hissing between clenched teeth. She felt the acids moving around, the hollow sensation that was tearing her apart, and she tears her watery eyes open to meet the eyeless gaze of Jack.

 

He had blood on his exposed face, something she swore he didn’t have before. How was he so dirty? She didn’t remember seeing him leaving; unless he did during the night while she slept. The sight was disturbing, and in his hand, he had something. It was bulbous, rich in color.  Jack rose it up towards his parted lips, and as he sank his teeth into it she could hear the pop. Blood spilled all over the floor, the smell of copper shocking her senses.  Anessa gags, a hand pressing over her lips.  When the juicy squishes of a liver snaps inside his mouth, he doesn’t even chew before swallowing the large bite.  That long tongue of his came rolling out, lapping up along his fingers towards the various pores within the organ, and before he could get another bite, Anessa faces away. 

 

A liver—he was eating a _liver_.  A raw, fresh liver.  Anessa’s eyes felt so dry.  There was no way she was capable of crying anymore, but if she could she would be.  Because tomorrow that could be _her_ liver in his mouth. 

 

Anessa shook her head, driving away the thoughts by keeping busy.  As Jack ate, _loudly_ , she lowered her attention to the same bullet wound that she attended to every morning.  Rolling the bandages off layer by layer, she was about to proceed with absolute caution.  But, the sight made her skin turn white.  The wound was still open, indeed, but it was half the size that it was the day prior. 

 

The hole was shutting now, and at an incredible speed. 

 

_Holy shit…_

Swallowing the lump in her through, she fights the urge to look over at Jack, and after feeling around the edges to check if she was dreaming she re-wraps it with haste.  There was no explanation--there couldn't have been.  Anessa was healing like a superhero does in a fantasy comic.  There was no infection, minor swelling, and no gangrene.  Something inside told her that she wasn't some lucky duckling.  Something told her that _he_ had something to do with this.  She just _knew_ it, and she desperately wanted to demand an answer to it.  But no, this was an opportunity.  A golden one.  Keep it a secret, that’s what she was going to do. 

 

_Wait, if this is all healed up then that means…_

A hand hooks over her injured shoulder, yet she feels no pain.  Eyes were wide, darting left and right in a frenzied thought. 

 

**_CLINK._ **

****

She jerks, looking behind her to see Jack had placing another bowl of warm water on the ground.  Lips curled, the water sloshing around, but he was careful not to spill.

 

“…thank you,” she almost forgot to say.  Jack stared at her for a bit, blood drizzling down his neck and staining the white collar of what was either a shirt or tank top beneath his jacket.  When he stalks away towards the door and leaves, she waits until hearing the sounds of shoveling before quickly tearing away at her bandages.  That shoulder of hers had some shallow cuts.  _Shallow._ As if she were sliced by a pair of dull scissors.  Not the deep _trenches_ like before.

 

Anessa looked astonished, looked like she just seen the end of the universe.  “How…”

 

She wasn’t sure how, but she knew one thing.  This was a damn miracle. 

 

Anessa wrapped her shoulder back up, and for the remainder of the morning she waited until Jack returned.  Like before, he was covered in snow, and as he shut the door behind him his shaking mirrored a wet dog.  Ice flung around the room, Jack’s exposed skin layered with a thin layer of shiny sweat.  She wondered how he was even sweating outside in 30-degree temperatures.  The claw hammer in his hand fell to the ground, making a loud bang that startled Anessa.  He was licking his teeth, hand reaching up to wipe his mouth in thought.  He was thinking hard about something, something Anessa had no clue about. 

 

“Another blizzard is coming,” he said, his smooth voice catching her by surprise. 

 

“…how do you know?” Anessa sounded skeptical, but Jack ignores her.  That was something Anessa was getting used to now—being ignored.  She adjusts her sitting, the rattle of chains echoing in the small cabin, and Jack stalks over towards the other end of the house. 

 

Tearing open a closet he finds some stray boards, and then after piling those behind him he tore the lose ones from the ground with ease.  The splints tugged at his skin, piercing him, but it didn’t bother him at all.  When he returned back into the living room he noticed Anessa was standing now, her arms supporting her as she leaned along the fireplace.  Her heavy breaths were a sign of her struggling, her shoulders tense as she rose her bad leg up to bend and stretch. 

 

A searing hiss of pain.  She shakily slams her leg back down, the pain still too intense for her to muster the strength.  Anessa notices him, notices the cold shiver in the air, and Jack tore his prying gaze to return outside. 

 

The sun was disappearing, but not from sun down.  He was boarding up the windows, concealing Anessa in darkness. 

 

_Is there going to be a big storm…?_

She twiddles her thumbs together in thought, teeth hooking down on her bottom lip as she chews on fruit gummies he'd given her.  As the evening came she heard the wind picking up, and her doubts diminished into disbelief from how right he was.  That sounded like a storm, a big one.  Jack had come in and out a few times already, the trail of snow and mud melting.  She waited for something to happen, paranoid, but Jack looked too distracted to even acknowledge her.  He had too much shit to worry about—she was the least of his concerns.

 

That was perfect for her. 

 

Fingers unraveled, revealing a small nail that had rolled by during the last few hours of his hard work.  By now it was probably four or five in the afternoon, and about to roll into evening.  So she had to work fast, otherwise she was going to lose sun.  That, and she wasn't sure on when the next opportunity would be.  The prison clasp on her leg had a key hole, and not once had she ever notice him holding the key to unlock it.  Inching it towards the small entrance, she worked quietly. 

 

“Dammit,” she cursed.  It didn’t fit. 

 

But the bronze padlock didn’t go forgotten.  It was what connected the chain to the small anchor installed onto the ground.  Anessa crawls over to it, turning the padlock over just enough to slip the nail in.  It fit, and Anessa felt her heart flutter.  It was the silver lining she was waiting for.

 

She could hear Jack outside, hammering away.  Every pause he’d make to get a new nail made her momentarily panic.  If he caught her doing this, she wasn’t going to survive the punishment. 

 

**_Tick….tick…_ **

****

“Come on, baby…please,” she whispers, eyes glazing with pain and desperation and anxiety.  Almost…almost…she could feel the small pins inside shifting along as she slowly wiggled it in. 

 

Gently…geeeeeently…

 

**_Click!_ **

****

Anessa paused, processing her success, containing her excitement.  Pulling the lock free she slips the chain from the anchor, bundling it up around her arms to prevent the dragging noise.  There was still a banging outside, constant, as he was preparing. 

 

Then silence, and Anessa ceased all movements.  Even her breathing. 

 

One second.  Two seconds.  Three seconds passed. 

 

The banging started up again, and she was quick to her feet.  The first thing she wanted to find was her gun.  She remembered him holding it the first night she was there, the night he opened fire on her.  A free hand tore through her back, digging through the contents.  But no to avail; her weapon was somewhere else.  Somewhere hidden.  Anessa hurriedly limps into the hallway instead, and barrages through each room.  They were empty, all of them.  Almost completely void of furniture.  Every inch of the unfamiliar home provided little hiding places, all with almost nothing in them.  He must have had it on him, must have been armed.  That meant that she had to escape then, because she had little time to waste on finding something that she knew little of it's whereabouts.  She peaked through open doors, finding all the windows covered up and sealed.  Utter darkness, and nowhere to go.  “…shit…!”

 

Outside, all of Jack's commotion falls silent.

 

“Oh no…”

 

The front door opens for the tenth time today, Jack repeating his almost ritualistic process of removing the snow from his clothes.  He shakes himself, his hollow eyes glaring beneath furrowed brows.  Jack knew some big storm was going to sneak up on him.  He should have prepared weeks ago, but was too lazy.  When he exited that morning to clear the snow from building up by the front door, he noticed a smell in the air that was different.  Moisture, and a change in the wind patterns.  That when he knew he'd made a stupid mistake.  Lost in his thoughts he scans the home, the area still rather well lit given there was still some daylight outside.  At least it was a bit more secluded, a bit more darker.  He did always prefer being surrounded by darkness.  Just then he reaches the fireplace. 

 

“… _what?!_ ” 

 

When he noticed Anessa missing, he felt his heart quicken in pace.  Jack’s temper reached to boiling point in mere seconds.  Arms tensed, fingers curled into dangerous fists, and when he launched one of them towards the nearby wall he managed punch a hole through it.  "ANESSAAAA!"  Silence answers him back, irking him all the more.  His fist resurfaces from the wall, small cuts peppering his hand.  “ **Where** … **WHERE** **ARE** **YOU**?!”  The sounds of banging and smashing reverberated through the cabin.  Jack searched every corner: the kitchen, the pantry, the bathroom, inside the fireplace.  When he hollered her name, it was in bloody murder.  Hate that shook her to the core.  But where she was, where ever she was, she didn’t even make a noise. 

 

Jack stops dead in his tracks, surrounded by the mess he had just made, and struggles to calm himself down.  He never had anyone slip away.  Never had anyone take advantage of him.  Never had been tricked by his own food. 

 

_Sniff._

There!  That smell—that gorgeous scent.  Fear and blood and panic in a delicious mix.  The scent led to the hallway, lingered there like a stench coming off a rotting corpse.  “ _There,_ ” he hisses, seething with a grudging urgency to slit open her throat.  “Come out…”

 

Nothing happened.  Claws dug into the walls, the sounds of snapping and tearing echoing around as the wood blistered.  “COME OUT.”  Another slash, this time deeper.  He exposes the next room, tearing a large gash into the wall.  “COME OUT OR I’LL **KILL** YOU!!!”  Another furious yell.  Jack reaches the end of the hall and begins to heave. 

 

“You…you _bitch_.”

 

Did…did she get away?  No…no, absolutely not!  There was no way she could have.  He would have heard her running—why else would he smell her?! 

 

_She's still in here...I know it!_

If he didn’t find his calm, he was going to lose to his bloodlust.  He couldn’t lose to that—he was a fool when he did.  A different person.  If he lost his cool now, he was either going to lose her or kill her and ruin all his hard work.  _I swear I will kill her…!_

 

_Click, click, click._

 

He turns his head to the left.

 

_Click, click, click._

 

And then to the right.

 

A twitch pulled at the edges of his lips until they formed into a crooked smile.  He had no reason to worry; there was a simple solution to this.  Jack was used to perfection, but so what if there was a little slip up?  It wasn't the end.  No, it was only the beginning.  "I know you're in here Anessa...and I'm going to  _find you._ "

 

**_Clank._ **

****

The hairs in the back of Jack’s neck stood straight.  He just heard something.  Like metal jingling. 

 

Right behind him. 

 

Cold metal wraps around his neck, crushing his Adam’s Apple.  Jack gags, his jaw clenching and heart racing.  Air escapes his lungs as he felt his throat being suddenly crushed.  “Nngh…!”  Anessa pulled with all her might, palms wrapped tightly around the chains.  She began to sweat from all the adrenaline, her grip slipping, but it only made her pull harder.  The sounds of Jack’s chokes and gasps made her even more determined.  With a knee planted firmly on his back she pushes against him while reeling him back, forcing his body into the chain, strangling him further.  Jack felt lightheaded, but the dizziness didn’t relinquish his anger.  He could feel the heat of her body, hear the racing of her heart and her struggled grunts as she fought him in the hallway.  He swung her to the side, but she held on, even when her back slammed into the wall.  He turns again, repeating the process, and when she hissed in pain but didn’t yield, Jack had enough. 

 

Fingers wedged into the small spacing between the links.  With a strong pull, they snapped from his bare strength.  She stumbles back, not expecting such a feat. 

 

_He…he broke the chain…?_

Jack moved fast, grabbing a hand full of her shirt before shoving her incredibly hard into the wall.  Anessa had the wind knocked out of her, and when she didn’t feel the floor beneath she began to kick her legs in reflex.  “You little shit…did you really think that could **kill** me?!” Jack snapped between coughs.  Anessa growls, and she kicks him in a place he’d never been strike before.  The pain in his groin was excruciating; enough to make him lose his grip.  Arms folded inward, reaching low to grab his aching member.  He coughs again, a pathetic noise escaping his lips. 

 

Shit—that hurt so damn much.

 

She was going for the door now, limping as quick as she could.  But something was following her, whooshing through the air.  It sounded heavy, but she wasn’t even able to notice it until it struck her in the side.  Anessa yelps, hands planting onto the door.  The blunt end of the hammer beat against her, bruising her, but it only scathed her luckily. 

 

_I’m leaving…I’m leaving!_

The door knob jiggled, but it didn’t turn.  “…No!  No, you fucker!”  Every barreling jab of her shoulder that she made against the door’s cold surface rattled in her body like waves of fresh pain.  Ever incessant scream she made in the peak of her panic.  She had to get through, she just had to. 

 

“Anessa…”

 

That hazy voice was accompanied with a jingle.  Just when Anessa thought it was her lucky day, all hope seemed to have been shot down.  She turns, slowly, shakily, to see Jack wiggling a key ring in his hands.  There were only a few on it, but those few he kept close.  Jack’s face with plastered with a sickening smile, regardless of any pain he might have been feeling right now.  The growl that rolled from his throat made him sound like a crocodile, his teeth clicking in amusement at the burning look in her eyes when she spotted those keys.  He latches his fingers around them now, and his grin dropped down into a dark scowl. 

 

**BOOM.  BOOM.  BOOM.**

His footsteps were like distant gunfire roaring.  Heavy, like his legs were made from cement.  Anessa snaps, “Get away from me…!”  Jack didn’t cease, but sped up.  That intent in him was unquenchable—he didn’t need eyes for it to be obvious.  Anessa reacted in a way she didn’t expect, and nor did Jack.  She swung her arm, jerking the chain forward.  The contact was brief, but it felt like an incredible whiplash.  Jack’s face jerked to the side, his eyes wide as an immense pain tainted the left side of his cheek.  Anessa was breathing heavy, borderline crying, but looked angrier than a cut snake on the defense. 

 

Salty—his mouth tasted salty.  When he moved his jaw, there was a loud crack, and with his hand he slowly reached up to pushed it back in place.  **POP.** That black stuff was pouring from the side of his lips now, pitter pattering onto the ground.  She made him bleed.  Hell, she might have even knock out a tooth.  Some animalistic growl rolled out from his gut when he slowly turned his attention back onto the quivering mess before him.  Fight back, she told herself, fight back!  Anessa tries again, this time intentionally.  Her arm jerks to the side, the chain whipping through the air behind it, but Jack was more prepared this time.  He snatches it from the air, the end spiraling around his knuckles until his hand was perfectly wrapped in tainted metal. 

 

“Shit,” she was hush, eyes stinging and vessels popping from the stress.  Jack just tilts his head, licks his teeth.  Slowly.  Too slowly.  A force pulls Anessa off her feet, her ankle painfully being jerked forward.  Jack reels her in, fast, and she felt the planks of wood beneath her scrape at her skin.  Anessa managed to snatch the hammer just in time, and she goes in for a swing.  A big hand catches her gentle wrist and squeezes tight.  When she hears a crack it makes her instantly release.  Clothing tears under his touch, ripping into shreds as he slashed mindlessly into her.  Her screams tickled his earlobes, twisted his stomach in ways that only slaughtering a miserable human life could make it.  Jack wasn’t giggled, or sneering, or cursing—he was utterly silent.  Fully concentrating in what he was doing.  All of her hits and strikes against his chest, his shoulders, his face.  It all was being ignored.  Everything she did had little effect.  She'd push at his face, but she feared he would bite off a finger.  Her shirt was in tatters, her blood seeping through cuts of various lengths and deepness.  Her breasts rose and fall in an uneven cycle, her hands finally pushing at him to conceal her chest.  Jack kneels up, having been straddling her the entire time, and takes the liberty to suck the blood from his fingers.  It was warm and sweet, like sugar.  Like a sweet creamy milk, so light and satisfying. 

 

He laps up the flavor, rolling his tongue along the roof of his mouth.  “I think…I’ve been spoiling you _too_ much, Anessa.”

 

Again, he grips hard onto the chain.  She could hear the door knob jingle.  Cold air rushes in like an intense freezer, and when her body propelled towards the door she _understood_ what was happening.  “No…no!  Stop it!”

 

Snow barreled through the entrance, the strong blizzard winds picking up.  Anessa twisted and turned, kicked and thrashed.  There was a metal spike out by the entrance that Jack snatched, and right when he reaches the middle of the yard he strikes it into the ground.  It dug deep, pried between layers of thick rock and frozen soil.  Anessa stumbles up, darting towards the home, hoping to shut the door on him while he was distracted.  The chain yanks, and she lands face first into the snow.  Crunching ice beneath heavy boots bolt past her, and Anessa pushes herself onto her knees.  “Please, please no don’t leave me out here!” her voice cracked as she bawled from the strong winds.  Jack was about to bypass her, but her arms wrapped around his leg.  Clinging to him for dear life she shook her head frantically, obvious tears streaming down her delicate face. 

 

“No, no don’t.  I’ll freeze!  Wait”

 

The monster turns to her for a moment before releasing a yell so loud, so deep, so _callous._ They could hear birds in the far distance scatter away, wolves that were howling grow silent from the unfamiliar sound.  Anessa releases him, lunging back onto her back and burying halfway into the deep snow.  She looked horrified.  She never heard anything like that before…never.  A hot breath seethes from his nostrils, the fog they made gusting away with the blizzard. 

_“Stay.  And. **Freeze**.”_

When he turned and distanced himself from her, she could barely make out his form anymore.  The snowfall wasn’t quite heavy—it was the winds.  She could see anything because of how much the winds carried.  “…Jack…” she mewled silently, watching after him. 

_“…JACK!”_

Jack paused at the entrance, staggered.  She called for him—she called for him by _name_. 

_“Jack!  Don’t leave me!  Jack!”_

Jack’s lips parted, his jaw extending forward into an ugly expression.  He thought, hard, about this.  But it didn’t take long to decide.  He had his opportunity to vent, and she had her opportunity to play by the _rules_.  During the meantime, Jack took a seat in one of the many chairs in the living room.  He could hear her cries for him, screaming like bloody murder in the heart of a raging blizzard.  Zoning out wasn't hard for him.  He listening to other things like the creaking of the home, the moaning of the weather, and ringing of silence beyond it all.  This was what Jack did during his free time for many years.  He would sit, alone, and completely content.  Perhaps it was time to let himself rest?  Jack felt no ache from all the work he did.  He didn't feel exhaustion, or grow tired.  But the flesh of his privates was beating with an intensity.  It hurt, quite a bit, yet Jack sat perfectly still through it.  His tongue wiggles around in his mouth, and as he feared he could feel a loose fang.  It wasn't bad enough to worry him.  Reaching his hand into his mouth he searches for the particular tooth and twists.  With ease he tore it out, his expression not faltering, and Jack rolls it onto his palm to look at it.  _  
_

 

A sharp, black stained molar with a knife-like edge. 

 

It would grow back in about ten days.  He only knew through experience.  Sucking on the raw part of his gums now, he savors the flavor of his own blood.  It was a sick minded gesture.  Still, it gave him some natural sense of comfort.  Disappointment flooded his mind.  Outside, all of his hard work was dying. 

 

_"Jack...!"_

 

Jack squeezed the arm rest of the chair--he heard her again, and he wondered how he could still hear her screaming.  Why the fuck wasn't she dead yet?  Something in his chest hurt when he heard that small, innocent cry, though.  Like a bird lost in a storm, struggling to survive.  Trying to find a place to go, but have no where to go in the first place.  Jack wiggles his jaw, itching the wood until a groove was made beneath his nail.  Thirty minutes pass, and finally her voice died out.  He couldn't hear her anymore.  Maybe she was dead?  Something about that thought didn't sit well with him.  It made his mouth dry and his shoulders squeeze inward.  The storm was building up at it's peak now, terrorizing the forest with a god-like wrath.  His body tensed, shook.  _Don't.  Fucking.  Move._ Jack's nails pierced through, tearing the chair apart, and he grunts irritatingly to the dusty, frigid air.  There was no reason to get up anymore.  He'd made up his mind.  

 

But where was the satisfaction in that? 

 

The better things in life never came easy, he reminded himself.  If she died, out there, now...then everything would turn mundane again.  Would turn perfect, regular, as it did for many... _many_ years.  _No, don't tell me Jack...you're feeling sentimental, aren't you?_ That voice inside was dark and mischievous and mocked him senselessly.  It chuckled inside, and it made him grin.  _It's a human, go find a new one.  You'd outlive it anyway._ True, he indeed would.  It would just get boring.  

But...

_How about this; it's only worth it if it's still alive.  Does that sound reasonable?_ Oddly enough, it did.  It was dark now, and Jack didn't really have much more time to give it thought.  He stood up, neared the entrance of his small sanctuary, and with his incredible strength he pushed the door open against winds that raged over 80 MPH. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this many reads so soon. If you've reached this far then I give you my humble thanks! This story is planned out in my head, and it feels like it's going to be a long and unpredictable ride. Fun Fact: It's really hard to control myself from rushing to the points that I really want to write for :'v .


	6. Fortune Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyeless Jack makes advances that Anessa simply cannot accept. In a moment, Anessa must make a life changing decision: accept whatever fate was coming for her, or take no chances and fight for her life. With a monster that showed no mercy, the answer was grim but absolute.

 

Steaming water poured into the tub, filling it half way.  Jack had many old pots stacked within the roaring fire, and in the immense heat it still took time to boil.  Anessa was bundled up on the ground near it, trembling.  A fire blanket that he found from her bag was bundled around her. 

 _Not enough,_ he thought, studying the dirty tub layered with black and red.  Jack needed more water if he was going to warm her up properly.  The fire would take too long.  When he found her, she was practically buried in snow.  She was breathing, but faintly.  The tips of her fingers turned blue, her nose a similar shade of lifelessness, and the shells of her ears. 

Another searing pot burned his hands, even with cloth wrapped around them, but he didn’t want to spill it.  Jack carefully brings it to the tub, steam rising from with it, and he pours it in on top of the murky water.  That should be enough.  In the living room, Anessa was taking short and shallowed breaths.  Her eyes were closed, she wasn’t fully conscious.  Arms lifted her up again with ease, and she felt herself floating.  When she rolled her head to lean against an incredibly warm chest, she could hear a loud heartbeat.  Its pace was quick, like he had been running, but Jack wasn’t.  He’d been working, but not enough to exhaust him.  If Anessa was fully there, she would think that this was how his body worked.  But right now, she was in a void, empty state of mind.  She wasn’t thinking, or scared, or even comfortable.  She was just there, almost lost to a permanent darkness for the third time this week. 

When hot water surrounds her, she felt a spring of life jolt through her muscles.  That numbness turned into heat, and then to pain.  She could feel the damage the cold had on her now, in that instant.  It was deeply imbedded into her tissues.  Almost to the bone.  Anessa sibilates, curls her lips in only to bite down hard onto them.  It muffles a painful bellow—every inch of her felt ruptured.  Dark water burned her skin, but at the same time it gave her a strange sense of pleasure.  Like she had eaten a big meal after starving for days.  A groan intercepts her weeping, a groan that made her back arch and her head curl.  Jack was watching. 

Intently watching.

There was something interesting to see when a human came back from the brink of death.  The sensations they were feeling looked almost orgasmic.  It was like a strangle fetish.  The pleasure a person would get when fingers wrapped tightly around their neck—a power that held them down and used them.  Jack watched her in the tub revive, for the second time now, and he couldn’t help but notice the odd pleasurable look on her face when she reflexively stretches beneath the hot, dirty water.

It was a rather beautiful sight, he thought. 

If Jack cared enough to preserve memories, he’d take a picture. 

Anessa opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is him.  It was heart stopping, an unfortunate sensation that Jack himself could hear.  It made him tilt his head, again.  His eyeless gaze stripped her naked—she didn’t understand why she felt so bare when he _looked_ at her like that.  That strange mask was on his face again, and Anessa couldn’t decide if it made him look more intimidating or not. 

That rolling growling eased out of his throat.  After all this time of her being stuck with him, she started to get a picture of what they meant.  Being a Park Ranger, she learned much about sudden interactions with wild animals.  There was a growl he’d make when he was angry, like the provoking snarl of a mountain lion.  Then there was the subtle growl, a sound that she couldn’t quite understand yet.  And then there was _this_ growl—the growl he was doing now.  He only ever did it when he stared at her in that intense, interested kind of way.  It looked like he was trying to put his finger on something, like he was trying to put two and two together.

Fingers curled beneath the water, cracking from the amount of pressure she was using, and if she didn’t feel the weight of the situation she’d would have sneered from the pain her hands felt. 

“Are you going to kill me now, Jack?”

It was a ballsy question to ask, but there wasn’t much left to even say.  Anessa felt like she had to say something, like he was inviting her to speak.  Deep down she prayed that she didn’t make a poor decision for the millionth time today. 

A shiver crawled up his spine when she said his name.  Jack originally was interested at how quickly she recovered.  She wasn’t trying to sound tempting.  The thought was lightyears from her mind.  Inside, Anessa was terribly scared.  Inside, she was depressed and had already given up.  Jack studied her face, but he had already graphed it and saved it into his mind months ago.  He wasn’t sure what made him so inquisitive, but the way she asked it.  The way she said his _name_.

He doesn’t really have a memory of someone saying his name to him. 

That towering body of his was lowering now, drooping down like he was about to devour her whole.  Anessa was still, having no where to go but deeper into the water.  His face hover over hers, his breathing loud and uneven.  The sounds he was making were struggled.  He sounded like he was barely holding himself back.  Anessa wasn’t used to such a drastic change of cool and collected to barely keeping in line.  It was that unpredictable nature of his that made him such an animal.  Anessa’s breathing picked up against her will, her eyes feeling warm as her body began to produce tears from all the panic.  She could see Jack’s claws come into view.

_Do it._

That voice in his head was back again.  Talons glided along the rim of the water near her feet, making small waves on the surface.  He neared her exposed knee, the pads of his fingers pressing gently onto the exposed flesh where a rim had formed.  Anessa’s breath hitched, her lips parted in stark fear.  That touch was gentle but dirty.  Sharp nails left goosebumps through her knee, and as his hand neared her face she could feel him lift her chin up just a _bit_ higher.  From beneath his mask a tongue slips out.  Thin and long like a snake it laps up the corner of her lips, flicking as they parted in shock to graze at her front teeth.  Anessa releases a short scream, but it died quickly when that wandering hand of his jerks into the water to hold her down.  It makes her suppress any noise, and she felt him grip tightly along the center hem of her pants.  He squeezed her groin, silencing her, and if it weren’t for her pants those nails of his could have torn away her privates. 

Jack tilts his head at the sudden change of her expression.  The pad of his middle finger pressing down firmer, harder, and when he rubs against her clothed heat she takes in a sharp breath.  That voice in Jack’s head telling him to eat her silenced, and it turned into something else.  That sweet smell Jack had been smelling—that sweet smell that he couldn’t quite describe—became painfully clear for him now. 

He never experienced a female human in heat.  It was subtle, almost impossible for most of their kind to recognize, but he was much more a slave to his perceptions that they could ever be.  What was he going to do…about this situation? 

_Do you feel that?_

No…well, at least he thought he didn’t.  A wave of heat was burning his thighs, right when he smelt that.  It was the same wave of heat that took over him when he would rip into hot, delicious flesh.  He wasn’t tearing into her, though.  He was just here, sitting with her, in a bathroom.  He didn’t even really smell much of her own blood.  Just her. 

_How fascinating._

Jack was a slave to his body—he enjoyed feeling _good._ Somehow, right now, he felt _very_ good.  So, when he smelt a spike of that scent, that scent of lust that she didn’t even notice she had, he couldn’t control that chuckle rippling in his ribcage.  Jack rubbed her a few more times, studying the twisted look in his face as she struggled to understand just what the hell was happening.  He wanted more of that raw emotion, he wanted those walls to come crashing down.  How could a human have so much pride? 

_Let me see how much of an animal you can become…_

But she takes a hold of his wrist, her glare burning holes through him.  “ ** _Don’t_** _…touch…me_.” 

That was unexpected, even for Jack.  How many surprises could one measly little human have inside of them?  When she forces his hand away, she clasps her legs shut and sinks deeper into the water.  It was a futile gesture—all Jack needed to do was flip the tub over.  But oddly enough, he let that slide.  Feeling like giving her the false security, he returns his soaking arm and sleeve to his side before playing that leveled voice of his. 

“You can’t stay in there forever.”  He leans in again, “ _I’ll be waiting for you._ ”

Jack left her now, looming off towards the living room where the sounds of boiling water and a crackling fire place could be heard.  Anessa soaked herself in the hot water for a long time.  Weak hands kneaded at tender muscles, scrubbed at her wounds.  Even after bathing in such dirty water, Anessa felt the cleanest that she’s ever had in almost a week.  She realized how much she took everything for granted.  Her shower, her car, her fridge, her cats.  The tingling along her lips still burned where his tongue touched—it was hot and slimy and made the most awful noises. 

After an hour and a half of soaking, she felt the water was losing its heat.  At some point during that time she drifted off into a light sleep, because when she woke up there were new clothes in the sink.  Fingers rose from beneath the depths, wrinkly and bruised.  She’d been in the water for far too long.  Her body rose up, the sounds of gentle patters as water cascaded from her drenched clothes echoed into the halls.  She knew Jack could hear her, but she wasn’t sure if she could be any quieter.  Clothes made slapping noises as she dropped them onto the floor, followed by her tattered shoes and socks.  Hands massaged into her feet, the tips an off grey color that brought that fear of frostbite again.  Then, Anessa looked at her body in the frosted mirror, and she shivered at the cold surrounding her.  She was paler than usually, a bit thinner too.  Many cuts tattered along her chest, painfully close to her nipples, and her shoulder…

…well, it had better days, but it was worse hours ago.  As of now, it was almost sealed up, but she knew there would be scars.  Nasty, monstrous scars with deeper memories behind them.  The bullet wound was prominent still, and when she tilted her thigh to look at it she noticed water pouring from the hole.  Her stomach squeezed, still ravenous from hunger, but she had the energy to stand still. 

The clothes he left her didn’t look like they’d fit him.  He was, again, very tall.  If Anessa had to guess, she’d say he was around 6’5”, while she was a rough 5’6”.  Black men’s yoga pants were too long for her legs, and she struggled to feel the flat ground beneath her bare feet.  Beneath the sink there was a drawer, and Anessa slowly tugs it open.  Metal tools shifted about, messy and in no particular order.  Some looked like dental contraptions, while others were simple unsanitary knives.  Many of them were scalpels—medical scalpels.  Some looked new, while others were worn from multiuse.  Anessa didn’t want to know what he did with those, the history behind them, but she did need at least one to cut through the clothing.  Finicky hands pick a random one, and she bends over to begin tearing. 

The pants were shorter now, short enough to not alter her steps, and she used the remaining fabric to wrap up her injuries again.  She pulls the top on, a simple cotton long sleeve that, too, was a bit loose for her.  Anessa was about to return the scalpel into the drawer. 

She pauses, she thought.  She doesn’t, and she gently shuts it before wrapping the entirety of its handle around a shaky palm.

When Anessa slowly nears the end of the hall she cautiously takes a peak.  Jack moved one of his many chairs, and now he sat in front of the fireplace.  She noticed the scars it had on it, deep and intimidating, and she wondered if they were fresh or old.  His face looks at her creeping form, and she stops dead in her tracks.  There was no emotion behind his stare, no noise.  As always, it was unnerving.  Claws drummed onto the armrests of his chair, leaving imperfections onto the wood as small dents. 

“What do you have in your hand?”

 _Shit,_ her teeth squeeze together harshly.  Anessa didn’t want to move, simply because she didn’t know if it would trigger something deadly from him.  Jack rose a hand, his index finger pointing hauntingly towards her, and he waggles it to the floor. 

Almost instantly Anessa drops the scalpel, the bladed end piercing into the ground.  It stood perfectly in the open, exposed.  A sigh of defeat, her throat clenching down as she swallowed. 

“ **Come here.** ”

His voice was so sinister.  He was a demon, a bizarre nightmare incarnate.  Glued to her spot, she stares at him untrusting.  But Jack grew impatient, a leg of his rising before slamming dangerously hard into the ground.  Wooden planks cracked, she could see that.  Anessa acted fast, her bare feet faking a more extreme limp as she made way towards him.  She wanted to go fast, because she didn’t want to make him wait.  She wanted to go slow, because she was so damn afraid of him.  Which one was worse?  She couldn’t decide, but she found herself reaching him too quickly for her to be comfortable either way. 

“ **Sit down.** ”

A shaken breath, Anessa slowly turns to approach a nearby chair, but Jack’s foot slams terribly loud into the floor again.  She stops, waits, desperately controls her breathing.

“In **front** of me.”

In front of him was the floor.  Legs lost all their feeling, muscles taut, and she slowly lowers before him to face the fire.  Jack tugs her shoulders, nails curling in and almost breaking skin.  She adjusts as he demands until her back pressed firmly onto his legs.  The heat that radiated off of him was intense still, and oddly enough to comforted her just as much as it scared her.  She knew her eyes were red right now, she could feel them ache.  Soon, a clawed hand raked through her hair, burred herself into it, before rubbing against her wet scalp.  Anessa gulps from his touch, raw terror blossoming like a bloody rose.  He could feel his free hand pressing a thumb in the back of her neck, studying the dips and groves of her spine underneath.  It pressed hard, leaving a bruising ache.  Jack liked the softness to her skin.  It was cool and flawless, youthful and pristine.  He nears her throat, squeezing it lightly, but he doesn’t strangle her.  Those fingers glided around her jawline, beneath it, along the lobes of her ear, and brushed lightly on her swollen bottom lip before dipping back down towards her breasts. 

That spot generated quite a bit of heat, he noted.  The flesh there was softer, much softer than the rest, and it was squishier too from all the adipose.  He never ate a woman’s breast, he didn’t enjoy it since there was so much fat.  He found the texture, the flavor disgusting.  Often, he hated breasts.  But he never took the time to actually _touch_ them.  Skin around the areolas gathered from the cold, from the stimulation, and when he ventured further beyond he felt the firm nub of her nipple. 

Anessa lets out a gloomy sound, her hands reaching up a little too fast for Jack’s liking.  She conceals her face, whimpers into her throbbing palms.  A low hiss blows from his pulled lips in an attempt to hush her.  Jack didn’t understand the reactions she was having, but Jack wasn’t a human.  Slowly he frees her scalp to grace the edge of her chin.  A firm tug, and her neck arches back.  Anessa’s head was sprawled above his knees now, and she was looking up at him.  Jack looked upside down, like a bat hanging from the ceiling.  Black bubbles out, oozing from those sockets of his as he presumably blinked, and she worried that at one points all of that grossness would spill out onto her face. 

“Why do you humans get so uncomfortable when you’re exposed, hmm?” 

His hand clasps her breast, squeezes it.  “Is it because you’re weak?”  All the melancholy radiating from her made his head crane to the side.  “Isn’t this what your body wants?”

Jack was willing to mate, only because it was his nature to.  Wasn’t it also a humans?  Countless creatures in the wild mated before slaughtering the other.  Prey mantises did, spiders did, many mammals did.  Many of these things were foreign to Jack—he only understood as much as his instincts granted him.  Somewhere down the line there was an unspoken horror to this, a mental thing that only humans had that he never recognized before.  Humans were accustomed to many useless things: getting drunk, entertainment, possessions.  Was there something else present for them during mating? 

He was an observer, yes, but he never got a chance to see them mate before. 

“Stop,” she dug her fingers into the ground beneath her, her head shaking.  There she was, fighting that feeling again.  Jack’s nails dragged along her breast, drawing a bit of blood.  His head was still angled to the side, tilting, and the more he stared the worse it seemed to get for her.  “You…you have no right to...!”

Jack huffs, drawing his claws out of her shirt, only to scratch her again.  “ **Don’t you notice what your own body is telling you?** ” 

“My...body?  My **body** isn't telling me anything!” she yells, kindling a frustration inside of Jack.  "When I feel pain, I hurt.  When I feel tired, I sleep.  What makes you think I have control?" she disguised her disgust with a strange tone of reasoning.  But there was no _reasoning_ with him.  She _initiated_ this in the bath.  She was the one that got him riled up in the first place, and now she was playing clueless?  Humans weren’t complicated, they were stupid.  They diseased their own nature with petty things like jewels and trophies.  They didn’t even _notice_ what they wanted.

Meanwhile, Anessa could only sense her own fear.  The monster was being adventurous in a way that made her blood boil.  Anessa’s eyes pry open, ands he notices a firm bulge beneath his trousers.  Before he could dip his hand back into her shirt again she scrambles forward, grabbing the metal poker near the burning fire and swinging it around.  Jack was pursing her, but he stalls to avoid her dangerous attack. 

“Get **BACK**!”

“How amusing…look at how worked up you are,” he inches forward, dodging another frantic swing.  Another chuckle—oh dear, what was she doing to him?  This was all so exciting, he felt like he was going to burst.  A snarl, like a dog from hell, lashes out at her, and Anessa jumps in her skin. 

“Come on Anessa—hit me,” he eggs her on, that cackle of his picking bits out from her psyche.  This was all too much to handle, she felt like she was going to scream.  “Get **away** from me…!  **Get away**!”

“ **THAT’S** it Anessa!  I want to feel your anger, I want to smell your fear!”  The iron vibrates from his touch, Jack having caught it with little issue.  It jerked from her hold, launched across the room far from reach. 

“ **Stop trying, there’s nothing you can do!** ”

Hot air blew up her lose shirt, crawling up her back, and Anessa’s mind sprouted a fowl idea.  She shook her head, “No.  You’re not getting me that easy.”

Jack grins beneath his mask, “What are you going to try and do, human?”

“ **Everything** …!”

Anessa bends down, arms reaching deep into the fireplace.  Flames lick her arm, blistering and boiling over her skin, but she fights through the pain.  Jack was taken back, eyes pouring out liquid as his lids rolled up in shock.  A hot log was in her grasp, and she uses all her strength to toss to towards his still frame. 

“Or die trying!” 

Smoldering ashes smear against his arms that shielded him.  Jack lowers them, his sleeves shining with fiery red dots that threatened to inflame.  He wasn’t expecting Anessa to barrel into him.  The ground quakes from their weight, Anessa’s hands holding tightly onto his dusty hair before smashing his head into the floor boards. 

Jack’s vision flashed, he saw stars, and when everything came to she was barraging him with a series of punches.  A gash forms along her chest again, barely missing her throat, and Jack’s hand squeezed tightly around her thin neck.  “How many times do I have to play this _damn_ game with you?!”  Jack drags her along the ground, scraping the upper most layer of her skin off, and Anessa could feel the leg of the kitchen table knock sharply onto the crown of her head.  She digs a finger into his socket, ripping around, hoping to get some kind of reaction.  It was painful this time, and he jerks his head back to press a palm over his eye.  Black oozed from the socket, more than usual, a large mass of goop plopping onto the floor.  Jack shivered in the sudden pain, thrashed his arm around only to nick the table. 

Wood rained down, and Anessa shielded her sensitive face before crawling beneath.  Jack was relentless, blinded momentarily from a fresh dose of searing rage.  She didn’t expect to see something lodged beneath the frame of the furniture protecting her, something very game changing. 

“That… **THAT’S IT!** ”  Jack’s broad shoulders cracked as he rolled them in the peak of his anger.  He strikes the table, sending it up and into the wall behind her.  Glass from a window shattered under the unstoppable force.  He was about to tear into her gut, finally bask in all the blood she so selfishly kept from him.  Finally it was time to **EAT.**

**Click.**

He stopped when he heard that sound.  That familiar, haunting sound.  The barrel of a 9mm was pointing at him—still, unyielding, with a deadly accuracy.  Anessa’s arms were outstretch before her, and when she saw how glued he was to his spot she slowly rose.  “Don’t… **move.** ”

“…”

Anessa looked like she’d shot a gun before.  She looked like she’d shoot it again.  Jack wasn’t aware of how _well_ she could fire that thing, but he was sure about some factors.  One being that he wasn’t nearly as fast as a bullet.  Pores coated with thick sweat.  It gathered along the frame of his brows before running along his prominent jawline.  Jack gnashes, back straightening as he watched each step she took.  They were calculated, predetermined.  He never thought a life or death situation could be so technical for a human.  Anessa grabs her coat first, the thick parka still stained with her old blood.  It was still damaged along the left shoulder, but that didn’t matter to her.  It would provide more warmth than anything.  She slips it on, arm by arm, not once taking her eyes off of the crazed killer in front of her.  Jack tilts his head, his mask glistening with whatever mess his body produced.  Her bag was next, followed by the gas lantern he’d use every night, and she clips it to the side of her rucksack before swinging the heavy load around her shoulder. 

“Throw the keys over.”

Jack didn’t seem too intimidated, and that only set her off more.  Anessa adjusts her aim, just for a moment, before firing.  It made Jack stiff, but he could feel the bullet zoom past his legs before burying into the earth beneath the house.  “Now…!”

There wasn’t much options, so he did what he was told.  Jack tosses them over, and Anessa catches them.  The door was just around the corner, but she kept those brown eyes on him.  It was like she was facing a hungry wolf.  The monster inched after her, but in a pace which equally matched hers.  He kept a good distance, about six feet.  Jack watched the movements of her legs, noticing that the limp was almost fully gone.  He didn’t smell that blood from before, and he wondered why he had just noticed. 

Idiot—he was so distracted with _other_ scents, he had forgotten the most vital one.  The smell of her own _blood._

“How are you walking…” he demanded an answer with that ominous tone of his.  "Didn't I _hurt_ your leg?"  But this time Anessa didn’t shiver, she didn’t whimper, she only spat back just as darkly.  “You tell me.  What did you do to me three days ago,” it, too, was more of a demand than a question.  Jack’s digits arched in an odd way, bent at a strange angle, and she could hear a series of cracks from all of his joints. 

“Hmm...your small human brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend it…” 

More insults—he was trying to make her lose that control she just gained.  _Psychological._ She wasn’t going to let him win, because he never had been wining.  At least not at the mental games.  Anessa simply grunts.  The doorknob jingled as she attempted to feel for an entrance—she wasn’t going to look down.  She wasn’t…going…to look down.  Because that was all he needed.  Was for her to look away.  She saw how fast he was, how quick he could be.  The door was difficult to push once she was done, but the winds weren’t as strong now. 

“Do you remember what I told you, Jack?” she takes a step out, her gun still pointing directly for his head.  Jack’s ears perched—what did she mean?  This time she was the one who sounded so calm, so collected. 

“Now that this gun’s in my hands, _I’m_ the one in _charge_.” 

Jack could feel the skin around his eyes stretch.  What—what did she just say?  Knuckles cracked under pressure—something inside of Jack snapped.  A strong leg kicks him forward, propelling him like a jaguar.  But Anessa’s trigger finger was faster.  The bullet went through his knee, the crack of bones and snapping of tendons ringing in his ears more than the loud wail of the gun.  When Jack faltered, he didn’t let himself fall.  That leg of his was busted now, the bottom half dangling like a puppet with a loose string.  A foreboding scream ripped his vocal chords like screams from hell, and he messily claws at the wall to boost him forward.  Anessa shuts the door on him, struggling against the wind to lock it on her end. 

**CRASH.**

His arm burst through just as the lock clicked.  By sheer luck she was able to jerk back, the key still in hand.  “You little bitch, who do you think you are?!”

A stern grunt emanates from her tight throat, “A Park Ranger.”  

_A park ranger…?  A…A park ranger!_

Something in his voice changed, something else was stemming from him.  Jack sounded insane—he always was—but this was worse.  An uncontrollable cackle rumbled from the other side of the door.  “ ** _Anessa…sweetie…you can’t lock me in here…!  Hahahah, I can just break out!_** ”  Jack’s arm slides back in, only to come bursting out again.  His blue mask peaks through; she could see him mercilessly pounding against the door, and she knew it wouldn’t hold. 

“ ** _You can’t outrun me—you’re weak in the cold, you’ll die in minutes.  While I can survive anything!_** ”

Anessa’s fingers wrapped around the old gas lantern, the prehistoric relic that Jack seemed to like so much.  The smell of gasoline flooded his senses when it smashed along the porch, and he grunts.  “ ** _Wait, what are you doing…?!_** ” 

She was distancing herself quite a bit, and the ticking timer in Jack’s head went off like an alarm that he just couldn’t ignore.  “ ** _Stop, stop it you cretin!_** ”  He punches again, and then again, and then again.  Hole after hole the entrance grew bigger, and Jack’s lean body mixed with his enormous height was having some trouble getting through.  Something orange was in her hands now, and it looked like a small toy gun. 

_A flare gun._

“ ** _I swear if you do that, I’ll KILL you!_** ”

“I’d like to see you try,” Anessa boils through the bitter cold.  Bright red light blinded her, the sound of a burning flare traveling through the air.  It rolls along the porch, it’s sparks making contact with the gas that was already starting to ice over.  Flames burst, seemingly from nowhere, and they only grew.  Jack pulls himself free from the door, almost losing his balance as he backed away.  An arm rose, shielding his face.  He had hoped that the blizzard would put out the flames, but it didn’t.  With the gas to feed it, it was eating away at the frame of the house quickly like a super accelerant.  “ ** _Dammit!_** ” 

The cold was already eating at her skin, sneaking through the thick layers of fabric.  She wanted to stay—she wanted to stay and watch him burn.  But she didn’t have the time—she had to go now.  If she wanted to live, she had to go now.  “Go to hell where you belong!” she cries out venomously, eyes burning like the fires that ate away the prison of a cabin.  She could hear Jack’s screams inside; hear him tearing through the home in an attempt to get out.  But he was injured, and he had turned the entire building into a death trap.  No exits, no entrances.  One giant grave.  Anessa turns, not giving the place a second glance as she trenched her way through the tall snow.  It almost reached her knees, and the sweat pants felt useless against them. 

“ ** _I’LL FIND YOU…!_** ”

She stops.  Eyes dared to glance behind her, and she could see Jack.  Eyeless Jack.  Standing in the burning entrance.  The heat was eating away at his clothes, boiling over his skin, but he was just standing there.  Like a statue.  “ ** _I’ll find you Anessa…!  I’ll find you, and I’ll make you BEG for me!  I know your scent…and I’ll never forget it!_** ”

There was such a strong aversion: abhorrence in its purest form.  After that, he went silence, disappearing somewhere into the house to find the fire blanket he had used to _save_ her just hours ago, and she prayed that he was going to burn alive.  The cold air nipped at her again, pulling her from her trance.  Although she was in the middle of nowhere, lost in the woods during a blizzard, she was still afraid of _him_ coming back.  Legs trudged through the thick layer of snow, cold and relentless and, as always, unforgiving.  Soon, she was far away enough to lose the smell of burning wood.  Deep in the forest she heard distant howls of wolves, and the creaking of pine trees. 

If she died out here in the wilderness, it wouldn’t bother her.  Because in the end, she was the one who won their little game.  “I h-h-hate the cold,” she hums, humoring herself in such a terrible situation.  The flashlight in her hand didn’t do much for her, but she kept it out positioned right below her gun.  Just like she was taught back in training.  Anessa counted the shots since it all started—there were originally eight in the magazine.  Three were fired by Jack, and two by her.  So, if her math was correct, there should only be three left. 

 _Three’s better than none,_ she thought, passing a tree that she _swore_ she had seen for the third time already.  When what felt like an hour passed by, the cold had taken its severe toll.  Anessa wanted to sleep, desperately.  It was the dangerous winter curse, her father used to call it.  In a last and desperate attempt, she retrieves her flare gun, loading it with one of the few that she had left before firing its bright radiance into the night air. 

If she was lucky, someone might see it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so late, and tomorrow is a busy day. I usually don't write on Sundays, but if I do I'm hoping to post chapter 7 in exactly 24 hours from this one like I've been doing for the rest.


	7. A Remarkable Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being rescued by her fellow Smoky Mountain Park Rangers, Anessa is brought to the hospital where she is recuperated back to health. She feels that her life just might have returned back to normal, but her body continues to undergo changes that she fears could alter her life forever.

 

“Open wide.”

Pupils shrink to the size of small dots, homing in on the bright light of a small pen light. 

“Follow the light for me, please.”

Anessa did as she was told.

_Left.  Right.  Up.  Down.  Center._

“Okay…okay, good,” he stuttered. 

Next was the thermometer, which was slid directly under her tongue.  After a few moments of that awkward, probing feeling, it beeps.  He retrieves it, stares into the readings, and he rose a brow.  Anessa watched, confused, when he chucks the machine onto the table and grabs a new one, only to repeat the process for a second.  Then a third.

“ _What?_ ” he blurts under his breath.

“What?” Anessa sounded worried, prying.  It was her body—she deserved to know, didn’t she?

“Oh, umm.  Give me a second, Miss Milch.”

The doctor writes on a chart some medical language that Anessa couldn’t understand.  There was some strange mannerism behind his gestures as he wrote, as he thought, as he spoke, like something strange was happening that he couldn’t get to the bottom of.  Anessa sat on the hospital bed at an 85-degree angle, and the only complaint she could think of was how much she hated hospital gowns.  Outside was snowing a gentle flurrying, nothing related to a blizzard, but it made her skin crawl.  If it weren’t for her being on the fifth floor, she would have been terribly paranoid.  Luckily, the first floor was the maternity wing. 

She’d been there for a while now.  Anessa was told by friends who visited how she was found, but she couldn’t remember any of it.  The most she could remember was everything with that monster, her flee into the forest, and setting off a flair before passing out in the snow.  The second day of her stay in the hospital she told herself the same thing over and over again.

_You’re so lucky.  Holy fuck, you’re so damn lucky._

That was something she took to heart, too.  There was no credit given to her skills, because she felt they didn’t affect add weight to her chances.  Her father died in the forest many years ago, in the cold, and he was a survivalist.  No one she knew could withstand mother nature like he could. 

No _human_ , that is. 

When the police came, many of which she knew already, they asked her what happened. 

She lied.

Anessa felt it would have been smart, for their sake, to tell them the truth.  But for her sake, she couldn’t.  Nothing was more outrageous, more impossible to believe then what she had to say.  If she told them that a blue masked monster with a hunger for human flesh snatched her in the broad daylight one Sunday morning, then it would only take a turn for the worse.  She would be forced to see a psychologist, be hospitalized for far longer.  She could lose her job, her home, her cats…

She felt stupid for thinking about her cats at a time like this.  Truthfully, she just wanted a normal life again.  Something to come back to and not worry about.  What if everything was changed forever?  What if she couldn’t go back to her average life style? 

_Anessa—calm down.  You’re alive.  Safe.  He’s dead now—IT’S dead now.  You have nothing to worry about._      

With his two hands he clasps them together, fingers digging into his lips, and he takes a deep breath. 

“What can I say?  You’re doing…great.”

A few seconds of awkward staring, and Anessa finally gives a smile that she hadn’t in days.  She laughs, although it felt foreign, before plopping her back against the multitude of pillows.  She could feel tears forming in her eyes, tears of immense joy.  It was like a weight was lifted from her chest.  “That’s terrific…!”

“Yes but…you shouldn’t be.  Let me explain,” he adjusts his seating, arms outstretched as he tried to find a proper introduction to his thoughts.  His messy, uncoordinated thoughts.  When he said that, it made Anessa's heart sink.  Shouldn't be?  What did that even mean?  “Miss Milch…when I say that you’re doing great, I mean _great._   Usually my patients and…most…other people who have undergone long term exposure to extremely low temperatures _don’t_ make it out in one piece.  And by long term, I mean 30 minutes minimum.” 

Anessa didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where this was getting at. 

“You were in that storm…for a solid _two hours._ The fact that you have your hands, the fact that I can touch them,” he instantly grabs her hands, his calloused fingers rubbing along her smooth knuckles.  The doctor laughs, completely astonished, “It’s impossible, in yet it happened…!”

Luck; by a slim chance it could possibly be that.  “I…guess that makes it a miracle?”  The doctor shuffles through his papers, shaking his head.  “Miss Milch, have you ever suffered from _malignant_ _hypertension_?” 

Anessa’s face scrunched, and she shook her head no.  He jots a note down, messily, but keeps on pushing for information.  “W-What about your mother?  Father?  Anybody?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” she humbly admitted, fingers reaching up to scratch the her healing shoulder.  The doctor stops now, drumming at his notes, and she never met someone who looked so puzzled.  “In short, it’s basically high blood pressure.  In a case of malignant hypertension, it is extremely severe.  Your blood pressure is 180 over 115 on average…now I understand that numbers may not mean something but that is an _extremely_ big deal.”

She figured it was, because he used the word “extremely” twice in one sentence.  Anessa got the gits of it, at least a little.  Inside her mouth it began to turn dry, and her throat was sticking to itself.  Her heart was clenching, squeezing.  She felt like she was going to get a heart attack.   This wasn't turning out like she expected it would.

_This can't be happening...it's not what I think it is.  
_

“What are you saying?”

He licks his lips, scatter brained at the situation.  “Your heart is working **fifty** percent harder than an average person of your age.  It’s working heavily, it’s beating faster, in yet you’re not showing any symptoms of discomfort.  You walk fine, your temperament is great, you-”

Anessa interrupts his excited rant, “Okay well, what even causes it?”

The doctor pauses, his lips puckering together, “Well, a handful of things.  It can be genetic, it can be caused by some type of system impairment, kidney failure.  I checked all of your blood work.  It came out great.  Aside from your blood pressure and temperature, you’re completely fine, but you _shouldn’t_ be.  And that’s my point!”    

He shuffles closer to her, and as if someone were hearing he lowers his voice into a whisper. 

“Miss Milch, when you arrived six days ago, you were in the **brink** of death.  But somehow, and in some unexplainable way, you’ve recovered with readings that-that…that no other human has ever been recorded with.  Your body temperature is at a steady **_115 degrees_** …"

"But...isn't it supposed to be-"

"98.6, exactly my point.  In yet you’re still alive.  You’re absolutely healthy.  Like it’s normal.  It’s like…it’s like your body **changed** out there,” he points his pen at her, leaning back now.  "And I wan't to find out  _how_ it did."  

**Changed** —her body **changed**.  It’s still **changing.** Sweat rolled in the back of her neck.  Deep inside her mind she was screaming, loathing, hating every moment of this news.  This wasn’t a miracle, it was like a curse. 

She had no scars now, but instead what she became was some kind of freak of nature. 

Just how much exactly was she going to change, though?  If her skin became grey, or if her teeth turned sharp, she wouldn’t know what to do.  And then her eyes…if they were to fall out she would rather die.  The cold air of the hospital was giving her bad memories.  Fists crack, the doctor still rambling about the breakthrough of medical history, and Anessa was desperately trying to find a silver lining in all of this. 

Nothing was coming to mind. 

The doctor mentioned his colleagues, and Anessa clicked her jaw.  She didn’t want people to _find out_ about her.  About this.  This doctor saw her as a miracle, because he didn’t understand where those changes came from.  “I’d like to stay anonymous if that’s possible, doctor,” she simply said, and to her relief he said it would take time before he could even present anything to them. 

_What….did that bastard do to me?_ She kept asking herself that, and like the idiot she was she’d sit there waiting for an answer.  As if it would come to her.  The rest of the day went by terribly slow.  Anessa wanted to sleep, but she was too disappointed to.  The thought of it all—her strive for survival, her amazing feat, and in the end, she ended up getting a curse.  She loathed that bastard, loathed him until the end of time.  How could something so self-aware be so cruel?  Snatching her from a life that she somehow managed to get back, in yet it all felt very far away.  Very foreign.  Eyes drifted off towards the window where she stared for the remainder of the day.  Snow—it was so pretty.  Even after everything that happened, she couldn’t bring herself to hate the snow.  No one liked being cold and miserable, but it didn’t bother her as much anymore.  She found something worse then it.  So, for now, she would appreciate it. 

Not long after, Anessa was discharged from the hospital and could return to her home.  It had been three weeks since her rescue.  A long, utterly miserable three weeks. 

The corded phone rings, and Anessa’s wet hands retreat from the sink to answer it.   

“Hello?”

_“Hey Ness.  How you holding up?”_

She smiles, just a little, “Can I come back to work, Dylan?”

_“Three weeks of survival fame and you’re already thinking about work?  Honestly, I can’t believe you sometimes.”_

“Come on—I’m sick of having nothing to do,” she grunts, hot water running as she suds up her dirty dishes.  The phone was lodged between her cheek and shoulder, a shoulder that had no sign of injury. 

No scar, no dent.  No nothing.

“I want to come back as soon as possible.”

_“Mitchell said to give you as long as you needed.  He said at least a month and a half.  Come on, pregnant ladies get more than that.  You sure you want to jump back in?  I thought you’d hate the outdoors by now.”_

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not fucking around with it anymore.” 

Clanks chimed in the room as ceramic plates slid against one another, her coworker chuckling on the other end. 

_“Look, I mean it when I say I’m happy to hear you.  I thought I was never going to again.  When Mitch and I found you out there...you know.  Scared us shitless, you looked like you already died.  It's the only reason why he's so insentient on giving you time.  Tons of it."_ Anessa hums, but she still craved distractions.  At home, there was nothing to do, nothing to gain but her own wild thoughts.  There, she could think about endless possibilities that she didn't need to dabble into right now.  Relaxing was easier said than done, otherwise, she'd be doing it right now. 

The silence between them didn't bother her, most likely because she had gotten so used to Jack's treatment.  Dylan clears his throat, saving her from her mess thoughts, _"Anyway, no o_ _ne even expected a bear to get so close to the trail.  The county and animal control are having fences built along the paths now as extra precaution.”_

Anessa grunts, “I heard.”  The bear story worked well, she thought.  Making it up on the spot was killer, but at one point in her younger life she picked up the amazing attribute of lying.  Apparently, she was a professional at it, because the police didn’t even question her story.  If a bear snatched her, a bear snatched her.  At least having a good record paid off. 

Staring deeply into her palm she noticed veins that rooted beneath it.  Arteries splitting into capillaries, carrying body amongst her muscles.  They pulsed faster, harder.  When she zoned out, she heard a heartbeat.  It was loud and pronounce.  It moved so fast that it deafened her. 

“Hey Dylan, I’ll talk to you later, okay?  I’m kinda tired.”

_“Oh yeah, okay.  Get some rest, Loch Ness Monster.  You need it.”_

“Bye.” 

Pain seared through her hand, the serrated edge of a knife pulling at the soft flesh of her hand.  Blood drizzles out, dripping loudly into the sink, and Anessa hisses. 

She still wasn’t used to it yet.

Anessa puts the phone back into the receiver before watching the long gash along her palm bleed.  It took a whole minute, but by that time it stopped dripping crimson liquid.  It ran down along the length of her arm like a ruby river, gathering at the crook of her elbow.  She didn’t know why she did that to herself—maybe it was hope, to find out that she was back to normal again?  Nothing really changed.  Days later she was still a medical phenomenon. 

She tried to look at it as a helpful discovery.  Now that she was like this, she could somewhat understand what he was like.  She remembered the hot touch of his skin, the beating of his veins in his neck that were so pronounced.  Every time Anessa looked in the mirror, she could see her veins drumming under her hot skin like his if she stood perfectly still.  If she concentrated, she could even feel it.  It was disturbing more than anything.  It brought memories that she didn’t want to remember.  She saw his face—dark and gloomy and full of hate, and if he were a normal man on the street she would have found him to be very handsome.  Bandages wrapped around her palm, soaking up the blood now.  Anessa finishes the dishes before taking out a small notebook. 

The pages were lined up with dates, times, details.  It was a log of all the times she’d injured herself: what is was, when she did it, when the bleeding stopped, how long until it scarred, and how long until that scar was gone. 

There was a consistency that yet to yield.  On average, she could fully heal a deep cut in about four days.  A first-degree burn took only a few hours.  Bruises, about an hour.  The ink in her pen was running dry, and Anessa stared at the page for a while.  If she weren’t so afraid of pain, she would have broken a bone by now.  A finger bone, nothing serious.  Still, the thought made her shiver.  She’ll wait for that.  For now, she’ll give herself a break.

Outside it was snowing, something expected for late November.  It didn’t keep Anessa from going outside.  Every night, an hour before dusk, Anessa would walk along the forest line with her gun.  There were many traps along the edge that she had placed, most of which being bear ones.  When she bought them all, the store manager didn’t think much of it.  She _was_ the survivor of Gatlinburg, Tennessee.  The gateway to the smoky mountains.  Even if she wasn’t, bear traps weren’t uncommon there.  Unlike most of the residents, she lived nearest to the National Park, simply because she worked there.  That 9mm rested firmly in her grasp, her body nestled in a warm jacket.  As much as she hated to admit it, she knew she was paranoid. 

_I'm going to find you._

Jack's words rung in repeat in her skull like a bad song.  Whatever it was, a threat or a promise, she was never good a gambling.  Being in the force, being a Park Ranger, taught her that changes were never a good bargain to take.  Anessa survived a hunter.  A true hunter.  Now, she was going to try and be one. 

The fire she made that night never spread to the forest.  The snow killed it, but she remembered seeing it's red glow long after she retreated into the forest.  It burnt down to the ground, but Anessa didn't really know where it was.  The forest was huge--a vast open space.  Pinpointing it on the map wasn't easy.  She had an idea though, but it was so broad.  A giant red circle over the western area.  That could be days worth of searching, she thought.  A giant opportunity for someone to get hurt. 

He was dead, she was sure of it.  But again, she hated chances.  So she spent a lot of time protecting her domain, even if it was all in vain.  Even if it was a giant waste of time.  When everything looked already, she retreated back inside to fix up some dinner.  She watched every window in the dim lighting, stared out them for a long while before shutting all the curtains, her gun slung closely to her side at _all_ times. 

Anessa did this for a little over a month, meticulously, until the following January.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! A short chapter, but necessary nonetheless.


	8. Contact II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During New Years, Anessa and her partner Dylan get a call to locate a drunk and disorderly bystander. What they found was something gruesome, leading Anessa to lock down her home and making a fortress.

 

Distant explosions roared through the air through the night until the following day.  The air smelt of smoke and sulfur, hazed with a light fog from all the fireworks that have been going off.  From beneath his hat, Ranger Dylan Riley could see a small figure along the rickety wooden boardwalk.  The man scratches his clean shave, a hot cup of joe in his hands, and he stammers over to his partner. 

“Ain’t ya cold?”

Anessa looks at him, her arms crossed over her chest.  Although it was snowing, she didn’t have a jacket on.  She only wore her tanned dress shirt and dark green pants.  With parted lips she stared at him a bit dumbfounded.  No—no she wasn’t cold.  Even though it was 30 degrees out with snow all over the ground, she didn’t feel the least bit cold.  

“Yeah…!  Yeah, just had my jacket inside out,” she lies, shuffling it around in her hands before pulling on the blue parka.  It replaced her old tanned one, which she missed dearly.  Anessa felt lucky that Dylan wasn’t a very physical person.  She only touched a few people in the last month, and every time they all said the same thing.  _Are you sick?  You’re burning up!_ That’s probably why she didn’t feel cold, she thought.  Dylan only chuckled as she became lost in her own mind, “No I get it.  You got used to the cold—I guess that means I’ll be needing this coffee more.”  He jested, still handing over the piping hot cup.  A small smile pulls up in Anessa’s lips, and it wasn’t forced.  Dylan always cheered her up, always knew how to make a lady laugh.  The caramel liquid was hot, steaming like one of those volcanic springs she saw on the history channel.  Medium roast coffee was her favorite, while Dylan took a dark.  She could make out the scent of cream and cane sugar, fusing together in a java melody. 

“You put honey in it?” she rose a brow, grinning sideways at him.  But Dylan looked a little shocked.  “How’d you know?” 

How _did_ she know? 

The smell of it was painfully obvious, that’s how.  But Anessa didn’t realize that it _shouldn’t_ have been, at least not instantly.  When it came to her like a bolt of lightning, she shrugs a little awkwardly.  “Lucky guess?” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Dylan still grinned, his lips pursing to blow at his drink.  Anessa simply downed it, not minding the hot burn of it, and Dylan watched a little awed, and a little discomforted.  “Geez, maybe I should go missing for a few days too.”

“You and me both know you’d die out there without a toilet,” she grunts, her cup half empty now.  The taller man shrugs, knowing that her joke was a painful fact.  Nothing compared to his porcelain throne, and the thought of digging a hole in the middle of the woods to take a shit only made the hairs in the back of his neck stand.  He wondered how Anessa used the restroom while she was lost in the woods—Anessa was glad she didn’t need to share that bit of information with him.  Digging a hole in the middle of the ground sounded wonderful compared to what she _had_ to do. 

A strenuous, painful feeling was tearing at her chest, but she remained rigid against it.  Suddenly, Dylan’s two-way radio buzzed. 

_“Rangers be advised: We got a D &D on the run.  Hispanic male in his late 20’s last seen south Gatlinburg near park entrance.”_

“Great, a drunk,” Dylan sighs, sipping his coffee before turning to approach their car.  Anessa’s lips pulled to the side and she crosses her arms again, “What do you expect?  It’s New Year.”  Dylan clicks his tongue before unlocking the car, “Yeah, Happy New Year to us.”  The two jumped into the vehicle, and Dylan drives them north towards the entrance of the park.  Anessa could see the wooden signs as the passed by, the road winding and almost unnerving during this time of year.  Still, the sight was beautiful.  Trees for miles, some bare of their leaves while others were evergreen pines, snow covered in the entire stretch of forest that seemed never ending.  There was no railing on the road, but it didn’t scare the natives.  Drops, hundreds of feet down a cliff edge, were in every corner.  But Dylan was a good driver, and he knew how to hug the road.  Slowly they made their descent until that wooden welcome sign came into view. 

_The Great Smoky Mountains: closed due to hazardous conditions._

It was never opened when it snowed, but people never listened to that.  When end was near, the incline wasn’t as extreme.  Dylan parks, pulling on the emergency break, and the two exit the car sluggishly.  It was just another winter day, the thought.  Snow slid from the roof of the car as they slammed their doors, falling onto Anessa’s jacket, and she curses under her breath before shaking it off. 

A cold mountain breeze came, almost blowing Dylan’s hat off.  “What’s a guy doing way up here by himself?”

Anessa shrugs, grey faux fur that lined her jacket clinging to her neck.  “Don't know.  Maybe because he's a drunk idiot?”  Dylan nods and stuffs his hands into his puffy leather jacket, "I guess I can second that."  For a few minutes they patrolled the area, not once leaving the main road.  But nothing came to view.

“This is Ranger Riley, no sign of the D&D suspect by park north entryway, do you copy?  Over.”

The radio made a fuzz, _“Copied, Riley.  Keep eyes on the area until further advised, over and out.”_

Dylan belts his two-way radio, a disappointed sigh rolling from his lips.  “Great, how we gotta stay here.  Shit.”  Anessa walks the path a little further, still at hearing range from Dylan.  Something was off about the area they were in, something she couldn’t put her finger on.  There was a smell that lingered—a smell that was very familiar, but she couldn’t tell what.  It made her think of _him_ though.  Of Jack.  Dylan doesn’t pay mind to her searching, and he places his hands on his belt.  He shakes his head, sucking on his tongue with a big frown on his face.  “I was gonna take us to Stacy’s…grab us some fried bologna sandwiches…mmm.  Now I’m gonna have to deal with craving for it.” 

“…Dylan, come here,” he heard her voice call.  Dylan looks up, seeing her standing on the side of the road.  Reluctantly he jogs over to her hunched form.  “What is it?”

Red smeared along the asphalt, and it looked fresh.  The two were struck by the sight, disbelief coursing through them.  A bit overwhelmed, Anessa reaches down to touch it.  It was cold, very cold, and beginning to freeze over.  Fingers drew back, coated with a mix of red and dabs of dirt. 

“It’s blood,” she said, struggling to speak through over the excitement that was riling up her insides.  It really was—she could smell the iron it was giving off.  But it was strong, very strong, and it made her dizzy.  “Shit,” Dylan stammers, slipping his radio from his belt again. 

“This is Ranger Riley and Ranger Milch.  We have a possible crime scene, UTL on the body.  Over.”

_“Copied—any sign of the D &D?  Over.”_

“Negative.  Over.”

Anessa could smell something in this blood, something strong and almost foul.  It took a few seconds for her to pinpoint what it was.  _Drunk and disorderly_ , that’s what D&D meant.  Whosever blood this was, they had been drinking, because Anessa could smell ethyl alcohol.  “Dylan, I think this is our guy,” Anessa’s body shivered, but not from the cold.  Dylan was distracted at first, still holding his radio, and he gives the ground a look. 

“You think?”

“Yeah…” her face was scrunched.  She couldn’t tell him why, of course.  But she at least could _hint_ it with a suggestion.  Without thinking she puts her tainted fingers by her nose and gives it a whiff.  Strange, this wasn’t exactly what she smelt.  Dylan couldn’t help but grunt, a look of disgust on his face.  “What you do that for?”

She looks up at him, “What…it smelt funny, okay?”  Something wet fell on Anessa’s head, and she swore it was just melting snow from above.  But the sensation was warm, and the shocked look on Dylan’s face told her otherwise.  Anessa touches her forehead, smearing something thick along her skin.  There was blood on her—warm, alcohol tainted blood.  “Where did that come from…?” Dylan said in a very solid, stony voice. 

Eyes drifted upwards, and they looked a tree that arched above of them.  There was a body hanging from the branches, at least what was left of one.  Entrails wrapped around frosted stems, freezing into place, but they still had their shine.

_That_ was the smell.  Not the alcohol.  Not the blood.  The _entrails._

“Holy shit…!”  For the third time he snatched his radio, fumbling with the buttons as Anessa slowly stood, her eyes not once leaving the tangled mess above. 

“This is Ranger Riley, please advise!  Possible homicide at the north most entrance of mountain parkway,” she zoned Dylan out, too distracted by the horrific sight above her. 

It was a disturbing sight—disturbing enough to get Dylan worked up.  She heard him suggest a possible panther attack, or bear, but Anessa knew better than that.  She knew so much better.  The body, it was so mangled, but at the same time there was a purpose to it’s placement.  A dark, artistic flare to the way it was wrung out and hung up.  Somebody did this, somebody psychotic and mindless and evil.  A new smell stood out beyond all the others: beyond the smell of bile, and blood, and flesh.  It was a musky, sweaty, painfully _familiar_ smell.  Something she’d never smelt before, in yet for some reason she _knew_ what it was.  At the time, she never noticed it, but now with those senses of hers heightened it all became painfully clear.

_That smell…it’s…_

Hands began to tremble, another drop of warm blood pattered onto her cheek, yet Anessa was too disturbed by the smell to wince from its touch. 

_It’s **Jack**._

That scent drew her to look to the right, where it seemed most concentrated, and her arms shook in ripe fear.  A body was standing straight and tall behind one of the many trees, but what really stood out was a dark blue mask.  She saw something there, just for a split second, because when she blinked it was gone.  There—he was right there.  Watching her, the whole time.  Did he know she was going to be there?  Was he waiting?  Anessa knew it—she was right.  This was planned.  The body in the tree was a set up for her to find.  _No,_ she thought, _where did he go?_

“Ness.”  A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumps from the contact.  Dylan looked concern, but he also looked very serious.  “You okay?” he asks.  There was a delay to her answer, a stall in her brain that kept her from speaking. 

“…yeah,” her voice was shaky, her breathing deep, but she was able to find something to say.  “You got some…stuff on your face,” he said.  Anessa grunts, grabbing the napkin that he fished from his pockets, and she starts to smear away the blood.  Dylan give her a look that asked _are you sure,_ but he simply patted her the tense muscle of her shoulder.  “You’re burning up…get to the car.  We got crime scene coming in,” he arched his head behind him, motioning for her to return to the patrol vehicle. 

She was reluctant, but she did as he said.  Brown eyes glanced behind her, her stare intense as she looked around the area.  There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and that’s what bothered her the most.  She expected him to pounce from the trees, assault her or Dylan.  She didn’t want the two of them to separate, but that scent in the air was gone now. 

When crime scene investigation arrived, Anessa was assigned to traffic redirection.  Five cars pass, then there was a moment of dead traffic before more show up. 

Pass, pass, pass: she stops traffic now. 

She speaks into her two-way, “Clear.”

The next lane was allowed passage, and they came for the next minute or so until she heard a voice of one of her coworkers in the radio.  _“Clear.”_

It was her side’s turn now, and she grants them passage with an inviting gesture.  The entire time, Anessa’s wild thoughts raged like a forest fire.  That body was left there in the street, waiting to be found, and she worried if _she_ was meant to find it.  Memories of what Jack said came back.

_I’ve been watching you for many months now._

He knew how she worked, what she did, when she did it.  He knew her schedule, where she lived, the people she knew.  When he acted so surprised about her being a park ranger, that was all just a part of his ruse.  It all became suddenly clear when she looked up into that tree and saw dangling flesh, when she reared her head and saw him standing there in the forest in tattered, burned clothes and an ancient looking mask.  _Staring_ at her. 

He truly was the _perfect_ predator. 

That night when Anessa arrived home she didn’t waste any time.  With took her spare keys from the drawer nearest the back-porch entrance before taking quick steps to the shed outback.  Chains rattled as she fumbled with the lock.  Metal doors moaned open, loud and obnoxious.  Metal lawn steaks used to secure fencing were piled up in the corner.  She retrieves them, along with a wide hammer, and along her windows she hammers them into place with the sharp sides up.  Snow fell as she worked diligently, restlessly, with no breaks.  Soon she began to sweat, almost profusely, and the restrictions of her work attire irritated her.  So, pulls it off, let in only a tank top and her green pants, and she continued from there. 

Anessa did feel cold, not at the slightest.  She was too eager to finish, too afraid to leave her home unprotected.  When the spikes were all used up and properly concealed under moss and frost-resistant shrubs she continued towards the back.  Each window had their own steel bearings that protected them from the occasional storms.  With a proper power drill, she applied them to the first-floor windows.  The second floor she didn’t have the time for, so when she was done outside she raced up the stares to nail the windows shut.  The sounds of hammering echoed through the halls, loud enough to be heard outside and beyond past the trees.  When she was done with that, she sprinted down her stares and got some barbwire.  Back when her father was still alive, they used to have chickens.  The barb wire would surround their little free roam area, protecting them from any unwanted coyotes or racoons.  That was all torn down now, with the help of Mitchell and Dylan, and all the parts were stored inside the shed.  She made use of that barbwire now, picking it up by the bundles.  Metal hooks scratched and ripped at her arms, even when she was careful, but the gloves she used to handle them were misplaced.  Metal slinked against one another as she dropped the bundles by her back porch and secured them along the sides, and then her front. 

When she was finally done it was already night, a coat of shiny sweat lining her length of her chest and between breasts.  Anessa arches her neck, cracking it, breathing a little heavily.  For the first time now, she removed her focus from securing her home.  It was snowing lightly.  Beautiful dots of white flurries dancing around the air, drifting down before piling onto the ground.  Anessa wanted to admire it with a cup of coco, wanted to sit back and appreciate how cold it was.  But…it wasn’t cold.  It didn’t _feel_ cold.  She felt hot and sweaty from all the movement she was doing.  Anessa heard a noise. 

She looked left.

Then right.

Taking a sharp turn, she retreats inside and slams the door shut behind her.  She locks the first lock on the door knob, then the second chain lock, followed by the locks along the top and bottom which latched the slab of wood to the framing.  The image of a fist bursting through the door with ease plagued her mind.    

_It won’t hold him,_ she thought.  _But it will slow him down._

Sucking her lips, she decided it was alright to take a moment to drink some water.  With a glass she fills it with tap and drinks its entirety.  Once finished, she goes in for a second.  The radio was on a popular station, the host being a familiar voice for the area. 

_“And tonight is gonna be coooool, cold, cold, folks.  Bundle up, keep it warm, and enjoy the New Years with an even colder beer.  I got family that came down from New York, and did you guys know that once people are admitted into the ball drop they are NOT allowed to leave?  How do you piss?  They got no bathrooms in there!  Crazy right?  Glad it’s not my problem.  I love Knoxville too much to get into that mess.  Good thing that’s over for them, though, am I right?  Got some Coldplay for you, a classic if you’re sick of my top 20’s list.”_

_Yellow_ started playing on the radio.  Anessa could hear the drums accompanying a piano.  The smooth voice of the singer.  The slow beats of some synthesizer, at least she was sure it was one of those things.  Aness wasn’t sure since she wasn’t too into that kind of music. 

Then she could hear snow hitting the ground, like a hush white noise constantly ringing in the background.  She could hear trees brushing together, wind moaning, fire works screaming in the sky. 

With haste she shuts off the radio, her ears blaring.  Too much noise, it was too much. 

Anessa decides to run a bath.  PVC piping shook beneath the ground, carrying hot water that spurted out into her tub.  She removed her clothes, felt the steam in the air, rubbed the sticky sweat on her skin.  “It’s hot…” Anessa lowers the heat to lukewarm instead, remembering how hot she felt. 

_I’m never going to get used to this,_ she thought as fingers traced over the palm that had been fully healed for a while now.  A foot dips into the tub, two feet, and soon she dunks into the cool water.  She never felt so worked up before.  Shoulder blades ached as she arched her back, bones popping under water.  Surrounded with a comfort she felt herself zone out. 

Calm.  Collected.  Relaxed. 

So much energy gets eaten away when panicking.  At one point in her life she remembered her father’s words: _you can never get used to something like pain._ Begrudgingly she added anxiety to that list.  Exhaustion was kicking in now, more metal than anything, and she let herself relax.

**_BANG.  BANG.  BANG._ **

Water sloshed out the edges of her tub when she jolted from a dozy state.  Someone was banging at the front door, very loudly.  _Right when I got in,_ she scowled.  Anessa threw on some quick clothes, her hair dripping with water as she slowly ascended her stairs. 

She didn’t expect _him_ to be the knocking type, assuming it was him.  Fingers latched around the leather clasp of her holster.  The button pops, and she retrieves her gun.  Outside her door she saw a silhouette behind the elegant glass paneling.  Slow, easy footsteps.  A deep breath—a whiff for a scent.  It was a man, she just knew it.    

When she opened the door, she wasn’t expecting who she saw.

“Dr. Maroue?”

He was wearing a long, brown trench coat—the kinds she’d picture people in New York wearing.  Leather gloves cladded his fingers, protecting them from the cold.  Snow piled on his head, not that he seemed to care.  He looked eager to see her, because when she opened the door his eyes twinkled in a certain way. 

“Anessa!  Hello, I’m sorry um...there's barb wire all over your porch.”

Barbaric—she was _smelling_ for that monster.  She didn’t even notice it until now, when she recognized the pungent smell of sandalwood cologne and something far more _natural_.  Like perspiration, but it wasn’t quite that.  She couldn’t word it better than the scent of a man.  But he was different from the one she had flagged as dangerous.  Dr. Maroue was his own scent, a scent that didn’t quite alarm her.  A light shake, of her head, and she blinks before chuckling mainly to herself. 

“There...there is.  I'm sorry, I saw a bear on my way back home from work!  And..." she noticed that look on his face, like he stepped into something pretty strange.  "Umm.  Sorry, never mind.  I know it's weird, _trust me_ I know.  What are you doing here, exactly?  It’s 8:30,” she said, prying her weapon behind her back to hide from his sight.  It made her move awkwardly.  The doctor looked at her in a way that was just like back at the hospital: perplexed.

“It’s a quarter passed 10:00, not that it’s any better though,” he grinned, pearly white teeth almost perfect looking.  Anessa scrunches her brows together, pulled her lips back, and this time she was the one that was confused.  “What do you…” she was about to debate him on this, but a glance at the clock confirmed she was wrong.

10:27 PM.

“…oh,” she said.  Somehow, a lot of time had passed.  She wasn’t sure how, because she didn’t remember sleeping at all.  Anessa was in that tub for what felt like ten minutes max, but that wasn’t the case.  It had been a little over two hours. 

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I’ve been trying to call you for the past three days.  It’s about my recordings.  I was wondering if you could come by my office sometime for a check-up?  I wouldn’t even charge you—it’s purely for that research that I mentioned to you.”

His words pulled her back from her trance.  Anessa’s jaw was slack—she looked like she’d been in a ten-year comma.  She almost forgot about his messages all backed up in her phone history.  Anessa sighed, bit her lip a bit in thought.  “I’m sorry doctor, it’s really late, and I’m not sure if I’m comfortable discussing that right now.”

The doctor nods, a bit baffled, “Well alright then.  Please call me back, here.  If it’s better for you, I know you have a busy schedule.”  He handed her a card, said a short goodnight, and forced himself to stop.  Almost crashing into the pile of barbwire, he makes an awkward leap over it.  There was a loud pop, like the sounds of bones freeing from their joints.  He grunts, raising an arm, "I'm alright, heh.  Goodnight!"  Anessa watched him enter his black Lexus quickly.  Headlights blinded her momentarily, and in mere moments he was driving off into the night. 

Air sucks out as the door seals shut, keeping in the cozy warmth within.  Anessa turns the lock.  Two locks.  Three.  The card in her hands was smooth, having no blemishes, and she could see his name in scripture. 

_Martin Maroue, M.D. & PhD_

Below it, his phone number and office address.  Anessa walks into her kitchen, tapping her bare toes onto the foot pedal of her trashcan.  Before the lid could even fully open she tosses the card in and makes way upstairs.  The tub water was freezing cold to the touch now, and when she looked to the candle she lit prior it was relatively smaller. 

_I really was in there for two hours…_

Anessa wondered if this was just another physical change—another strange attribute she earned from Jack.  If anything, at least it wasn’t as bad as the others.  Oddly enough she felt very well rested, like she had a full night of sleep.  In her bed she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.  She was distraught from earlier that day.  But she was also so awake now.  It didn’t make much sense.  Anessa woke up at 5AM every day for work.  By 10 at night, she was always exhausted.  Anessa descended the stairs once again, and for the rest of the night she sat on her couch in the dark.  Listening.  Waiting for something out of the ordinary to happen.    


	9. Easy Pickings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine days have passed since her encounter with the blue-masked monster known as Eyeless Jack. The cities surrounding the Great Smoky Mountains have been preparing for yet another blizzard, but Anessa has been preparing for something far more sinister.

 

**_9 Days Later_ **

_“Locals are getting ready for the snow torm of a century as one of the largest cold fronts of the year heads south towards Knoxville and Gatlinburg.  9 lives have already been taken by this extreme weather in the northeast, and the governor of Tennessee urges that all citizens take the time to fully prepare.”_

Bangs echo through the forest as the television blares inside.  A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Anessa’s face, and she rolls her fingers into a fist to rub it away. 

_Exhale.  Inhale._

Anessa sucks her lips in and rubs them together.  As always, she was sweating from rigorous work, regardless of how cold it was.  The moist fabric of her tank top stuck along the curve of her back, clammy and uncomfortable, but the voice of the weatherman on channel 5 distracted her from the feeling.  Two days, she had two days, although the cold winds and heavy snow was going to hit before the main storm anyway. 

Anessa had never seen so much snow in one year.  That morning, she had to shovel her car and driveway free, and that alone took two hours.  Still, it wasn’t nearly as long as before.  Now that she had so much energy, so much strength she had yet to understand, she was capable of working to a potential she never dreamed it.  It wasn’t like she was Superman, but she _was_ something else. 

Eyes stared unblinking into the forest.  She still waited for _him,_ every night, and though nothing had happened in two days that didn’t change her paranoia.  It only intensified it, because now Anessa understood how a true predator worked.  Patiently, diligently, with no mistakes. 

She, too, had to work like that.  Be at her top game.  Because one false move, one moment of distraction or rest, could lead to her last moments of life. 

The rest of the morning she pulled on her uniform before heading off to work.  Icy winds rattled the core of her car’s engine, but it only stalled for a moment.  She wasn’t cold, but she didn’t want to stand out.  With her blue parka and a beanie, she pulled out of the driveway before driving the short distance to the park.  She spent most of work with Dylan, as always, making rounds throughout the Great Smoky Mountains.  The sight was still breathtaking as ever, even though she’s lived there for all her life.

“Four whopping bodies in such a short time—you’d expect people to not want to come to the park.  In yet, here they are,” he spoke with his mouth full of egg and biscuits, eyeing the surprisingly large crowd of people that came to the sight.

“Probably trying to make it in before the blizzard comes,” Anessa commented, sipping slowly at the coffee that Dylan got her.  He grunts, his face twisting weirdly, and for a moment it looked like he had heartburn.  “I…think I need a bathroom.”

Anessa looks at him, shocked, “Again?  You already went.”

“I know, I know.  Here, we’ll make a quick stop to the bank.”

His female partner scoffs and shakes her head.  “No, that’s way down the street.  Get out of the car and use the park facilities,” she points to the entrance, and Dylan’s skin grows white.  “Man, I hate going out in public,” he growls, but his stomach ached.  The door slams shut, shaking the entire car from it’s force, and Anessa watched his body jog past the line and into the entrance.

 _This is gonna take a while,_ she thought and rests her arm along the middle console.  At least thirty minutes.  Throughout that time her mind wandered.  There was quite a bit of people there, the thought was alarming.  Dylan made a good point when he mentioned the bodies.  It wasn’t often so many dead people were found along the mountain trails.  Anessa wasn’t questioning the fact that it was that monster.  She knew it all too well.  Over the past week she’d been trying to find a way to word the truth to her partner, to the police force, to the world.  Nothing came to mind—nothing that made her sound sane, at least. 

That was a power that Jack had—the power to be so obscure, so taboo, that unless someone saw him they would never even _believe_ him to be real.  She never was the one who found the other three bodies, but the first one was still etched into her mind.  She didn’t deny that it was traumatizing for her to see, but she was confident that she had seen far worse.  The image of his mouth—dark, void, lifeless, like his eyes.  The feeling of it wrapping around her shoulder, tearing and slurping and other mindless things.  A shiver, her stomach pulling from the memory, and if she concentrated too hard she would start to feel the sting of his touch.  Fingers scratched at her neck, her high body heat causing her some discomfort in her thick sweater, but she kept it on for image sake. 

Another thought crossed her mind—why would he be killing so much?  She wasn’t an expert on the subject of mysterious monsters, but she did remember overhearing him mumbling to himself one morning during her captivity. 

_I can last another day…it’s only been two weeks._

Anessa could only conclude that he was talking about eating.  It was impossible to believe if it _wasn’t_ him.  To see so many bodies turn up out of nowhere worried her.  If Jack wasn’t really _eating_ , then what he was doing was _showing off_.  He was trying to leave her notes that only she would understand.  Lucky for Anessa, she still had to eat often.  That was something she didn’t want to lose.

As the day progressed, it started to drag painfully long.  Lips pulled to a frown every time she looked at the clock.  The 12-hour shift felt like 20, and when it was time to go home she only had more work to do.

“Do you want to head to Stacey’s?  My treat,” Dylan’s voice was dragged but quirky.  He watched Anessa move quick towards her car, like she didn’t have a minute to spare.  “Oh…sorry, not tonight.”

“Awe, why do I feel like you keep blowing me off,” he frowns, but his comment was still joking.

Anessa gives him that look she always did—a look of sheer disbelief—she had to go home, but she had to remain in character.  As if everything was alright.  Otherwise, Dylan would keep prying.  “Hello?  There’s a _storm_ coming!  I got to get the house ready,” she grins.  Luckily, she had a more than reasonable excuse.  The two of them waved goodbye, and Anessa hurries home.  Tonight, she had to make sure that the traps were all still in place.  If she had time, she’d fortify the windows with a drill.  Plus, she had to stop at the pet store to get more cat food.  Anessa was horrified at how long the lines were, but these people were trying to stock up as well.  So, she waited, feeling the time slipping away from her grasp. 

_Shit…I have to prioritize what’s most important._

Anessa figured the traps were.  She witnessed his sheer strength, the raw power behind his muscles.  She had some of that, but just a fraction she assumed.  Once at home, she put that energy she still had to good use.  The front door swung open, loud mewling from her cats as they came out of hiding.  All the noise she’d been making throughout the week must have scared them, but the long days she spent at work gave them time to recover from their fears.

“Guys… **move**!”

Dodging their small paws, she managed to get inside without stepping on them.  The cat food droops along the counter, hundreds of kibbles rolling along the paper package and making a noise that her pets recognized.  “I’ll feed you later,” she said over their cries, and she removes her dress shirt before returning outside with haste. 

More barbwire lined the doorways now, and more spikes barricaded the outside windows.  Time management was essential throughout the week—that’s what helped her transform her lovely home into something that came straight from a slasher film.  Bared windows and chains along the cellar doors clasped together with three padlocks.  Anessa prayed that this wasn’t going to turn into a prison like that old run-down cottage, but she figured staying inside in the warmth was better than outside in the freezing cold.  Even though she was stronger, more resistant, she doubted she could survive a blizzard again. 

She could tell simply from the fact that her fingers were locking from the cold.  2 hours passed, the darkness coming like a rolling blanket, and the temperature outside was dropping steadily into something outrageously cold.  By the front door she stood, staring at her fingers, feeling the joints pop under the pressure of her muscles.  It was very cold—so cold that a person could die from hypothermia.  Right now, she could actually _feel_ the chill of it, feel her body sweat a little less, but she mostly felt it in her fingers and toes.  Surely, the cold could indeed kill her.  It would just take it a lot longer.  A moan deep from the forest rung in her hears—the sounds of wild deer strutting along the snow-filled ground, spooked by the rolling winds coming from the valleys.  It was loud, it sounded so close, but that all happened so far away. 

When she shut the door, it made a loud creaking.  Wood swelled from the cold, and it made her cats flee from their hiding spots again.  Three felines rubbed along her legs, making small precious noises.  “Oh, I’m sorry I made you guys wait,” she scampers into the kitchen, struggling to step out of their cloud of mischief. 

Kibble rang, her cats crunching on the hard food like they hadn’t eaten in days.  But they had only ate that morning—they were just a little on the heavy side.  “Mommy has had a lot of stuff to do…and hopefully by the end of this storm, we’ll all be alive.”

Forcing herself to eat she turns off the television, something she’d leave on for her cats to watch, and sits on the small table by her back-patio entrance to listen.  Snow sounded like sand gently falling onto the pile of millions, wind whistling from the mountain tops before crashing down into the trees that swayed.  The trunks creaked, like her home, at it all rang together into an earache.  A sound that was once a melody that put her to sleep.  It would hurt concentrating this much, listening this hard, but she chose to.  If something strange stood out, anything at all, she would instantly notice it. 

_Purr.  Purr._

Jasper, her grey cat, was purring beside her ear.  It broke her concentration, and as she struggled to push it away, it would only return by her side.  “Jasper,” she scoffs, placing him on the floor.  A few seconds pass, but her concentration breaks again.  He jumps back onto the table. 

“Spoiled brat,” she stands, running her fingers along her hair.  Oil caked on the roots, gritty like old sweat.  _I guess I have to shower,_ she thought. 

Although she didn’t want to, Anessa decided to set the water onto hot.  It was easier for her to wash her hair in, at least she thought it was.  That, and she felt that it was a waste making her boiler work for nothing.  Steam rose from the shower, misting and transforming her bathroom into a sauna.  Still, she wasn’t calm.  That guard of hers was rose like a tall flag—ears perched, and from beyond the fall of the waters she still listened. 

Water ran down her body, light bruises from strenuous work already becoming pale patches as they healed.  She could smell the olive oil from her shampoo as she worked it into her scalp, and for the first time in a long time she washed the sleepy crust from her eyes.  The thought of her being this unhygienic made her face twist—it was very unlike Anessa to be so irresponsible.  It was that fear of the unknown; that need to survive.  It was incredibly distracting, she realized, and it was only going to get worse as the days passed. 

Nine days of immense torture.  _Nine_ days. 

At least now she could give herself a tiny break; a sense of seclusion.  For a split second, Anessa felt like she was a normal woman taking a bath after work.  A normal woman that didn’t have to worry about monsters, or murder, or anything of the sorts.

**_I SEE YOU…!_ **

A gasp rips from her throat, her legs buckling.  Without thinking, she reaches for the knife along the in-shower shelf and drew her certain back. 

There was nothing there.

_I…I just heard him…!_

Anessa swore to God she did. _  
_

**_Anessa...?_ **

There, right there, a creeping feeling tingled inside of her mind like a bug.  She heard him again, but fainter.  Still, it made her heart wrench.  Eyes darted left, then right, and then behind her.  She felt vulnerable all of the sudden, as if a million eyes were watching her. 

No, as if _no eyes_ were watching her.  _His_ eyes. 

“Where are you?” the breaking sound in her voice terrorized her mind—she was so scared, so caught off guard.  She couldn’t help to be afraid, but she was so damn ashamed that she was.  It tore through her like she was made of paper, that shame and that fear, and it made her mind spin.  “Where are you?!”  Nothing—not even that eating feeling in her mind.  It passed as quickly as it came, yet still it felt too long to have to struggle through.

Anessa ended her shower quickly, not even thinking about conditioning her hair.  Subtly towel drying, she throws on her clothes before cracking her door open to peak. 

There was a thin brown cat in the hallway, Bingo, staring intently at her.  If anyone was in the house, Bingo wouldn’t be standing there.  He’d be hiding. 

Swallowing the painful lump in her throat she stares at herself in the mirror.  Tired, grey eyes were a little sunken into their sockets.  Fine lines and signs of something deep and disturbing plaguing her mind could be visibly noticeable on her pale features.  Anessa didn’t look too good, she could tell, and it was eating at her how bad it was. 

“Shit,” she curses, flipping on the sink to fill a glass with water.  Behind the mirror was a medicine cabinet.  Her head was aching, so maybe some pain relievers would help.  Shaky hands wrapped around a small bottle before shutting the small cabinet.

Right there, in the mirror, was that same dark blue mask staring back at her. 

The sight of it made Anessa scream bloody murder—made her scream as if she’d seen her life flash before her eyes.  It was him—he was watching her.  She saw those dark voids, the black running out, the gloved hand placed just below hers where she was holding it.  Mimicking her, _mocking_ her.

But he was gone now, and all she could see in that mirror was the sad sight of her quivering form.  “Go…go to hell!” she drove her knife through it, glass and everything beneath it shattering under her intense blow.

Anessa saw the fearsome look in her eyes, the many reflections gazing back at her.  Glass rained into the sink, slicing shallow little cuts into her palms. 

**_KNOCK KNOCK._ **

As if being drawn from a trance, Anessa’s stare rips from the mirror out towards her stairwell.  Someone was knocking on the front door. 

“…” 

Anessa descends the stairs, her hands shakily grabbing onto her gun that she left on the counter.  Her eyes were open so wide, so painfully wide.  Step after step she approached the door.  It shook with each powerful knock, groaning under someone’s weight.

 _It’s a man,_ her brows arched low like her gaze—she could tell by the smell of it.  If this was it, then she was going to unload each and every bullet into his brains.  She was going to _kill_ him, and she was going to make sure that he could _never_ come back.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a fearful shriek.  Dr. Maroue stood still, his arms rose up over his chest—it was a strange instinct, but he did it out of shock.  He had bundled the barbwire and moved it over to the side again, undoing some of her hard work.  Anessa looked crazy, looked like she was about to snap.  That outstretched arm of hers was shaking viciously, the gun pointing painfully close towards his mouth, and the doctor took a sharp breath.

“I…I’m sorry,” that terror in her voice was evident, but she covers her mouth to conceal the quivering of her lips.  Anessa drops the gun, bites down hard on her lip, and rolls her jaw.  “I…I thought you were someone else.”

That probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but it was all she could think of right now.  Her mind was still spinning frantically, like there was a storm going on inside her.  It was too much—it was so crazy!  Anessa feared she was going insane, that her mind was giving in to the madness that lurked around outside.  Was she?  Oh God, she hoped not. 

The doctor cleared his throat, earning a glare from Anessa that she simply couldn’t control.  “I don’t know what’s going on with you…but you clearly need help.”

Her jaw locks, tightly, and she could feel her armed hand twitching, “…what do you want now, doctor?  It’s not safe to be out this late before a blizzard,” she warned him.  He did that thing where he licked his lips to speak, his hands lowering now to adjust his coat.  Adjust his image. 

“You never called me,” was all that came from his mouth, and for some reason Anessa wanted to punch it.  Call him?  The memory of her throwing away his card was faint, but she was able to recall his last visit. 

Shaking her head, she retreats from her hiding spot behind the door.  “I don’t want to be a case study.  Forget about this, forget about me,” Anessa didn’t want her irritation to be known.  She was still shaken, still staring out beyond him, to the forest line. 

It was late, almost ten at night.  If a hunter was out, it could be now.  But the doctor didn’t budge, he only gave her a look that was determined.  Unyielding.

“You have no right to hide this miraculous thing that’s been happening to you.  I deserve to know,” a madness was laced in his voice—a need.  A drive that he couldn’t control.  Anessa wasn’t expecting any of it, and that guard of hers came crashing when he took a firm step closer towards the entrance. 

“You’re not allowed to come in here,” she said, but he interrupts her.

“You see my car?  There is a camera in the dashboard that’s facing us.  If the angle is right, it just caught you holding a gun to me.  Miss Milch…I don’t like blackmail.  I don’t condone it…but if you force me to, I **will** use those means against you.” 

The grip around her gun tightened.  She felt her stomach flip from what he said, but she couldn’t understand it all.  All she could see, all she could remember, was that midnight blue mask staring into her.  Burning her soul. 

“Are you… **threatening** me?”

“No, I’m simply trying do to what’s right.  You…are hiding something from me.  And I’m going to find it out.”

Something inside of Anessa was firing up; an anger that was reserved for someone else.  The doctor was resurfacing all the frustration that she’d been piling up and locking away.  She was worried about things getting out of hand, but not like this.  Not with this man.  He was stupid, but a human being.  A stupid human being.

“Get off my property.”

“Not until you give me what I want!”

Anessa’s jaw locks, the veins in her neck beating visibly, and the doctor couldn’t help but stare at it.  That tick inside of him, that need to know, ripped gently along the insides of his stomach.  “I **need** to know what made you this way…now!” 

_Click click click._

The sound of gentle clicks rolling from the darkness reached Anessa’s ears.  It was silent at first, soon it grew loud enough for the doctor to hear.  He turns to the side, staring out, but he didn’t see much.  “…what was that?”

Anessa felt her hands shaking—no, trembling.  She was trembling with such fear that it shown in her wide, doe eyes. 

_That noise…_

“ _Run_ ,” she whispers quietly, her grip on the door tight.  When the doctor looks to her again, he could see the redness in her intense eyes.  Something scared her, shook her to the core, and the doctor didn’t understand what it was.

“What?” he asks, that fire in him still burning, but Anessa could only shake her head.  “ _Please…you have…to run,_ ” she said slowly and hushed, so quiet that the winds almost killed the works that came from her lips.  " _There's something terrible here..._ "

The doctor was about to say something else, something to reject her fears, but a force knocked him to the ground.  When Anessa noticed that dark mass leap onto Dr. Maroue she couldn’t fight the adrenaline that rushed her.  Her body fell to the ground, her back pressing against the nearby table.  Screams filled the air, the Maroue’s screams, and she could see blood splatter onto her front porch.  Hot red liquid seeped between the small cracks, gathering in snow that melted quickly from it’s touch.  The air was irony with salt, the same smell as the carcass that dangled from the tree a week ago.  But now that smell—that musky scent—it was so strong.  Musk and sweat and grime—Anessa felt vomit climb up her esophagus when that odor flooded her senses.  Like the stench of a nightmare, only worse.  It was a real smell, hunched before her front door, digging into bones and flesh and bile. 

A hand clasps over her mouth, suppressing her urge to cry, to heave out her dinner. 

_Click click click._

She listened to the sounds of him, a symphony of insect-like clicks and smacking gums.  Shoulders arched back incredibly far, as if wings were to rip from his beneath his burnt jacket, and he made that purring noise again.  Like he was satisfied with what he had. 

Maroue made another noise, this time like a choked gag, and when Anessa’s tear filled eyes rolled to look at him she could see the horrible look in his face.  A mixture of pain, of panic, of utter dread.  A messy, mangled hand reached over towards her, pleas for something.  Anything.  An end to his torment, a second chance at life. 

Anessa fired one, then twice.  The bullets impacted his broad back, flesh tearing as a sizzling hole was made deep into the muscles.  They lodged in his chest, the force of them making him jerk.  Silence, motionless, he simply sat there bleeding now.  Anessa was breathing so loudly, she couldn’t help herself.  It was all so surreal, impossible even.  Jack’s arm twisted around, the elbow bending in a deformed type of manner, and without looking up from the pile of meat he clasps his large palm around Maroue’s.  Anessa could hear a crack, and then a dozen, and she watched him squeeze the doctor’s hand until it was nothing but tattered tendons.  There was a drowning scream that splurts from him, fingers barely hanging on by a thread of muscle.  That neck of his arched up, muscles flexing beneath his scarred grey skin, and too slowly he turns his head to look at her.  Black, hollowed out sockets, staring straight at her.

Anessa jolts up and shuts the door, something that earned no reaction from the monster in her porch.  Arms worked fast as she clasped all the locks, and when that was done she wrestled with the bookshelf.  It timbers, banging loudly as it hits the ground and obstructs the doorway.  Dozens of books flowed like water, creating a messy mound of pages. 

Her heart was racing—it raced so much that he began to hurt.  He was outside— **HE** was outside.  She still heard the sounds of his eating, the animalistic noises of his bones popping and breath hitching.  

“Holy shit…holy shit,” fingers dug into her wet hair, pulling at the scalp.  On the floor she retrieved her gun, and instantly she pounds against her chest with frustration.  She should have shot him in the head.  She should have, but she didn’t!  “ **Dammit**!”  The first thing she could think of was the phone.  _I've gotta call someone!_ Legs worked messily as she stumbles towards her kitchen.  Anessa reaches over, spooking one of her cats along the way.  The cold plastic of the corded phone pressed into her ear. 

But she stops. 

“…”

 **Help**.  She wanted to call for **help**. 

But she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they came. 

Anessa shot Jack twice—two life endangers shots.  She knew one hit him in the lungs, she was sure of it.  The other most likely was in his shoulder.  If cops came, what would they do?  Open fire of course, but then what?  Anessa had a million questions spring from the ground, demanding her attention. 

What if…what if he _couldn’t_ be _killed_?

That was the worse case scenario. 

She knew half of the force; half of the people that worked diligently with her.  If they died, it would be her fault.  Like it mattered; once she came to, she noticed the phone line was dead.  Fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, and out of frustration she plucked the receiver straight from the base.  Anessa turns to her cellphone.  Of course, there was little to no connection.  She could make a phone call, but 9 times out of 10, the person she was calling never received it.  Anessa places her phone on the counter now, her eyes peaking out from a top floor window to see a small portion of his body.  He was still hunched over the body of the late doctor, feasting on his flesh. 

Something told her it was best to keep _him_ a secret. 

So, she’ll try to kill him.  No, she **will** kill him.  There was no question about it.  Because it was either going to be him, or her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter everyone. It sucks getting Jury Duty. I'll be starting classes soon, and I've also been working on an online comic of mine. Don't worry, posts will continue, but may not be daily as I originally intended! <3


	10. The Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time to face Eyeless Jack. Anessa prepared for this moment, but she didn't prepare for the truth that was finally going to unfold. Something else has been happening to her, something terrible.

 

With every light off, the inside of her home was darker than pitch.  A rustle of leaves rubs against a window to her right, scratching like nails on a chalk board, and it catches her attention for the tenth time.  Then, there was a gentle jingle of a bell that hung around her cat’s neck.

_Ding, ding, ding._

So many noises, but not the right ones she was looking for.

It had been four hours now, yet the stench of blood still lingered by the front of the house.  Anessa could smell it like the salt of the sea when her father took her to the east coast once in her childhood.  It left a strange sensation in her hair, on her skin—dry and sticky.  Right now, she felt the ends of her hair stand up straight, begging for an itch to calm her nerves, but she didn’t dare move.  Outside there was a monster.  A monster dripping with death, stalking outside it utter silence, waiting for the right time to shift her world deeper into the calamity she was facing.  Her trigger finger was twitching, aching, eager for a reason to pull. 

_Calm down.  Calm…down._

She needn’t ask why she was shaking so much, but she hated it still.  It was foolish for her to think that she could possibly be _used_ to all of this by now.  Absolutely foolish.  Somewhere in her she searched for a silver lining—a thing to be optimistic about. 

**_Anessa…_ **

It didn’t help that she could hear him.  Hear the cold urgency in his voice to find her, and to kill her.  Yet, she didn’t hear him outside.  She didn’t even hear him in the house. 

She heard him in her _mind._

Anessa just knew she was going to go crazy at one point—she just knew it.  A balled fist knocks painfully against her temple, rooting down pain with each slow and heavy strike.  She wanted to knock it all away: the thoughts, the insanity.

_His voice._

Another wave of tears overwhelmed her like an opening floodgate, and teeth bit down hard on her curling lips.  She hated it.  She hated it all so much that she wanted to die.  She just wanted to die. 

“ **Heheh…**!” a giggle that was too close to manic leaped from her throat, breaking her melancholy thoughts.  There was a fluttery feeling in her chest, her stomach, as if she was absolutely thrilled about something.  Her sweaty hands clasped over her lips, stifling her outburst of cackles, and as quickly as it came she swallowed it all down.  The gleeful look in her eyes died and was replaced with horror. 

Why did she just do that? 

Why did she start laughing…out of nowhere? 

The feelings were true—for a small moment in the middle of her dark kitchen floor, she felt very happy.  Excited even.  But she didn’t understand why. 

“I…really am going insane…” her voice was cracked.  Anessa didn’t even know who she was talking to.  Eyes drifted to the side, spotting glowing eyes in the darkness, and if it weren’t for her stalker being eyeless she would have screamed in terror.  The bell around her cat’s neck jingled as it scurried off somewhere and hissed.  Ever since the doctor was murdered outside, they’d been acting on edge.  Anessa was grateful that she had them.  For now, she treated them like alarms.  If he was inside, they’d surely made a fuss about it.

**_I know you can hear me._ **

No—no, she didn’t hear anything.  It was all just a trick of her mind.  A joke—a sick, fucked up joke that her psyche was doing to her.  All the chaos that’s been happening, her brain wanted to make a reason for all of it.  It wanted to fill in the holes, rearrange the plot, make sense of it all.  It was all psychological.  A force that she couldn’t ever fight without years of therapy, even if she tried. 

**_Humans…always trying to find answers to questions that they could never understand._ **

_Shut the fuck up…!_  Her eyes squeezed shut when she thought that, fingers digging into her scalp and scratching her now bleeding skin.  Why—why was she imagining him so vividly?  So spontaneously?  Can’t she control what her mind was doing? 

Just then she felt a burst of anger, something that wasn’t hers.  Something that was absolutely _external._ It was hard to describe, Anessa thought.  It came like a cloud surrounding her, a force of pure malice, and in that instant, she felt herself shrink deeper into the corner where her cupboards met.  Steady breaths became quick and staggered, unevenly paced and frantic.  _Holy shit, what is that_ , she thought, eyes daring to scan the darkness.  It felt like he was there, about to strike her down.  To her right was the sliding door outside, and she almost regretted looking. 

A tall figure was there, looming on the other side of the glass, staring at her cowering form.  Anessa saw the blue mask, saw the blood that froze along his claws, and when he lunged a fist through the glass she screamed. 

Anessa fired her gun. 

_BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!_

Pain overwhelmed her chest, a pain that she figured was from all of her panicking.  From the way he jerked, she could tell that she hit him at least once.  Jack snarled, darting through the bundle of barbwire like it was grass before disappearing into the snow flurry.  Cold air gusted through the back door, bombarding the shelves and dishware.  Her furniture rattled, and Anessa shielded her eyes from the cold that was blowing glass around the kitchen.  “Shit…!”  Stumbling up, Anessa flips over the kitchen table before pushing it towards the door.  If it weren’t for it’s sheer dense weight, the wind would have knocked it back down.  It was a poor fix, but for the mean time it was better than leaving it open. 

Jack was out there somewhere, she could smell the stench of old blood.   The sound of snow crunching under feet that raced around the length of her property.  Anessa sprints around her kitchen, bolts up her stairs, and once she reached her room she quickly lifts her curtains to peak out the window. 

Dr. Maroue’s body was gone, but there was still blood that stained the wood of her porch. 

As for Jack, she couldn’t see much beyond a few feet worth of her yard. 

In her chest there was that squeezing pain still.  It ached, almost more than she expected.  Fingers ran along her smooth skin, only to find nothing.  Not even a scratch.  “Why is it so hard to breath?” she questions herself, leaning against the window while massaging her aching skin.  There wasn’t much time to relax.  He was going to try again soon, most likely in one of the other windows. 

A soft mew made her turn her head.  One of her cats was there, purring, staring at her.  “Oh…shit,” she stood to pick up her feline companion.  Anessa felt paranoid.  This was one of those moves that people in horror movies would do to make you panic.  To make you say, ‘what the absolute hell is wrong with you?!’  Placing the first cat in her room, she approaches the stairwell to call out softly.  With light clicks of her tongue she was able to attract the attention of her second cat, but not the third.  Something told her that Bart, her most skittish, wasn’t going to show itself anytime soon.

_Ditch the cat Anessa—ditch the cat._

All her survival instincts told her that it was detrimental that she ditched the cat.  Legs worked against her will though, taking her slowly down the descent to the first floor.  “Bart…” she calls, eyes shifting this way and that.  The bottom floor was cold now, the sound of wind howling outside loud.  “ **Bart,** ” she said more firmly. 

Stupid—this was all so damn stupid.  Legs shook with each step, bearing her weight as she hunched lowly.  If she died, it was going to be for the meanest cat she’d ever owned.  It was her dad’s cat, that was the only reason why it mattered so damn much.  That, and she’d feel guilty anyway.  Approaching his usual hiding spot, she heard the low growl of the very same cat she’d been looking for.  “Bart…come here,” she gets on all fours, approaching the bottom of the couch to see him huddled up in the darkness.  A snarl, a scratch, Anessa’s arm jolts back with a fresh cut.  “You…stupid cat!  Come here or you’ll die,” she threatens, but it still didn’t budge. 

“Bart…please…come!” she reaches out, willing to get another scrape for him, but he had wiggled just beyond her reach.  Anessa looked like she’d been swallowed by the couch, struggling beneath it, but the shattering sound of a window startled her.  Glass clanked along the ground like heavy rain, and when she heard something metal bouncing off the tile floor she couldn’t help but rear her body up to press along the length of the couch in fear. 

There was a spike on the ground: old and rusty and caked with snow.  It was the very same kind that she used outside her windows.  The very same she had hoped to trap him with. 

_Shit, he found them._

None of her traps seemed to be working, as she expected.  But perhaps not for the reasons she had hoped for.  Jack was a predator like an animal with the mind of a human.  That made him something else—something extremely dangerous. 

_Knock…Knock…Knock._

Anessa didn’t want to look up at the window behind her.  She really didn’t want to. 

**_“I’ve known about these traps Anessa.  They won’t stop me.”_ **

He’d been watching her—she knew it.  She knew she felt his presence all week, ever since the first body that was found. 

A dark chuckle fogs up the glass.  She could hear it crackling along it, forming condensation, and the clunk of his mask as he presses his face against it. 

**_“Come now.  Do you really think I could be watching you for that long and not be tempted to kill you sooner?  My reckless nature would ruin all of the fun!  I had to distance myself…”_ **

Her breath hitched, her arms tingling as the cold licked at her sweating skin.  A gust of wind seeped in through her torn window, and Anessa grits her teeth.  He…hadn’t been watching her?  Then how could he know about the traps?

How…could he know what she was thinking?

Another chuckle, this time higher pitched.  Manic.  Excited.  Nails dug into the window behind her, causing an unpleasant sound to ring in her ears.  She felt that tickle in her gut again—that gleeful excitement twitching the edges of her mouth.  Anessa was overwhelmed again with a mixture of disgusting feelings: fear, terror, agony, _joy, eagerness, excitement_. 

As Jack breaks the third window, Anessa felt her legs jolt.  With a heavy jerk she launches herself from the ground, eyes watering madly, her face scrunched up in a strange mixture of panic and pain.  She could hear him clawing through the glass, laughing loudly as his body contorted and tore itself inward through the window.  She could hear her heart racing, feeling the tearing ache that surrounded her body—a pain she couldn’t understand.  It was as if she was thrown to the ground and dragged, as if he was clawing into her.  Before she could even dare looking behind her she was already charging back up the stairs. 

**_“ANESSA…I’M COMING…!”_ **

She saw his figure appear at the bottom of the stairs.  Lean, crooked, damaged.  Anessa felt her eyes widen at the sight.  Charred flesh that was _still_ in the process of healing looked like grey cow leather stretched over half of his neck and up to the right side of his cheek bone.  The door slammed shut behind her, her fingers messily turning the lock.  Next was the furniture, which she frantically pushed to block the entrance of her room. 

_STOMP._

He was coming up the stairs—she could hear him.  Footsteps quaked the floor, rumbled her to the core.  She could hear those claws of his digging into the drywalls of her hall, nearing her bedroom. 

**_“You’re hiding somewhere again…doesn’t this all seem familiar now?”_ **

It did.  She could feel the sweat rolling down her forehead as haunting memories flooded her mind, her grip tightening around her gun so hard she could crack the frame.  She could still feel that pain in her chest.  A twisting, nauseating pain, and she wanted to know where it was coming from. 

When he reached her door, she could hear the tap, tap, tap of his fingers along the surface.  Deep breathing, slow and heavy, emanated from the other side.  Like he had been waiting _so long_ for this.  Like it was _finally_ going to happen.  A fist barrels through, then a second, and when the wood splinters around her she felt a chip scrape against her eye.  **_“Furniture?  How precious…!  It’s clever, but it will only delay your death a little while longer!”_**

She could see him ripping the oak apart bit by bit, and when his masked face came into view she lets out a fearsome scream. 

**_BANG BANG!_ **

Bullets lodged into his shoulder, burying beneath his torn jacket and tense flesh.  Jack releases a grunt of pain, yet his movements ceased momentarily.  Anessa felt a pain searing through her shoulder—a pain that was sudden and burning and unimaginable.  She holds the painful area with a loud hiss, swallowing her whimpers as she tasted the salt of her tears. 

**_“How rude of you.  That’s no way to treat your guest, Anessa.”_ **

_What…what’s going on?!  It hurts so much!_

Jack paused, if only for a moment, **_“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed yet.”_**

Anessa didn’t care the question what he meant.  She was too busy swallowing her suffering, biting through the pain.  Brown eyes glared through thick globs of tears, and her vision of him was blurry.  He was squeezing through the narrow entrance he made, wooden splinters digging through his clothing and into the flesh of his abdomen.  She felt that pain, ripping at her, tearing.  “What…what are you talking about?!”

Jack was at that high again—that state of utter madness.  He cranes an arm forward, and though she was far beyond his reach still, he curls his claws towards her shivering body.  **_“You feel it don’t you Anessa?  You feel this pain that you’ve caused me…you feel the madness?  It’s driven me here…to you.”_** His body slumps now like a corpse, his hair messy and falling from the slack motion. 

It was as if he were drunk, lulled by a sensation that coursed through his veins.  **_“Like a stench I couldn’t ignore, I followed it all the way to your home.  You see, ever since I lost you, I’ve been trying to heal my burns.  Trying to regain my bearings.  I was lost—I had no sense of direction while I was so badly hurt thanks to you.  I’d been feeding on worthless prey—meat that didn’t satiate my hunger.  I wanted to wait until I could get my hands on you but…suddenly, one day I felt you.”_** Jack looks at her now, and though his gaze was Eyeless, almost soulless, she swore she could feel his stare burning deep into her flesh.  **_“I felt your fears Anessa, I felt your pain.  Your anxieties.  I saw your dreams.  I saw it all, and it brought me home.  And now I am here, FINALLY here!”_** his outstretched hand returns to his scalp, tugging harshly onto the roots of his hair before knocking painfully into his temples.  Anessa gasped, recognizing that motion as her own.

 ** _“This fear you have, it’s disgusting and makes me feel sick.  It smells like rotten carcass.  Yet, something about it makes me so excited,”_** Jack squeezes through the door now, cotton ripping under the pressure ringing in Anessa’s ears.  **_“It makes me excited…because now I know that’s how I make you feel!”_** That pain he felt was coursing through her, too, and she squeezed her eyes shut.  “This isn’t happening…you’re fucking crazy!”

**_“What you say doesn’t nullify the truth.  The pain you’re feeling…it’s mine!  And it’s making you weak…!  You can’t fight me, because if you do, you’ll end up fighting yourself!”_ **

“SHUT UP!” 

Anessa screams as she emptied out her chip, ignoring the pain that pierced her body with every succesfful shot she made.  In all of the panic she missed the killer shot, the headshot.  And when she heard the empty clicks of her firearm she felt her arms go limp.  Jack was standing tall, looming over her like a haunting shadow.  Dark blood poured from every wound, dripping on to the carpet before soaking deep.  She couldn’t do much but stare up at him, her muscles painfully shaking beneath her sweat slicked skin.  Jack saw the tears streaming from her, the scared and frustrated look on her face: like she wanted to do something about all of this, like she wanted to stand up and end it all.  Be the hero.  Be stronger than him.  It was all so delicious—so amusing.  A roll of clicks escaped from his clenched jaw.

Then he _tilts_ his head like a curious fucking cat. 

“What…did you do…to me,” she almost gags, her body feeling like it was completely tattered.  Like she had been shot by the entire police force.  An amused chuckle rolls from his throat, causing his Adams apple to bobble up and down.  Truthfully, Jack wasn’t entirely sure.  It wasn’t necessarily something he had tried to before to such an extreme extent.  When he didn’t answer, but rather raked his claws ups towards his mask to tear it off, Anessa’s eyes met the nightmarish face of her killer. 

**_“It’s time Anessa.  Are you ready?”_ **

Jack hunched over, the moment bittersweet.  All of the drama, all of her childish glory, to come crashing down in a bloody finale.  How pleasant, Jack thought.  How wonderfully fitting!  A long, eel-like tongue raked along the sharp teeth that lined his gums.  She could smell the stench of his breath.  Death lingered in the air, and Jack was ready.  He was ready to **eat.**

To finally **EAT.**

**_SNAP._ **

His lowering claws froze when something caught his attention.  It was a sharp grinding noise.  It accompanied Anessa’s painful grunt, her slow and staggered sigh.  Jack felt a discomfort rising from beneath the waves of his eagerness.  It came from his ankle, radiating with a powerful heat that rooted deep into his muscles, and beyond that.  The discomfort turned into a light pain, and then to a tormenting one. 

Unable to stand, he felt his leg give out from the weight he had on it.  A knee slams into the ground, and he was only feet from her when he started to shake from it all.  **_What…what’s happening to me,_** he thought, slowly raising his eyeless gaze to see hers.  It was stern, determined, almost too full of life for someone who was about to die.  But the way her fingers wrapped tightly around her ankle made the acid in his stomach rise up to his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. 

Anessa broke her own ankle, and in the midst of her agonizing pain she somehow managed to keep calm and collected about it all. 

“You said that I could feel the pain I was causing you.  If that was the case, then you should be able to feel the pain that I cause myself…!”

**_“What?!”_ **

She was right, it was the only explanation after all.  Jack was about to reach forward and slit her throat, but she squeezed her damaged leg again.  His body jerks, muscles writhing in pain as he shrinks towards the carpet.  Why did this hurt so much?  It was just a broken leg!

“I could only imagine how some pathetic human invention must barely bring you any suffering,” Anessa’s voice was almost giving out as she slowly rose, being careful not to put any weight to her injury. 

“When I felt that pain of you being shot, I knew something was off.  I’ve been shot before…I know how bad it hurts.  And the pain I'm feeling now is **nothing** compared to the real thing.”  Anessa limps away from him, still wearing of his downed state.  Jack glared from beneath his shoulder, his head arching downward towards the ground as he squirmed.  Hands reached down, touching the tender ache near his foot, but he winces.  **_“What are you getting at…?!”_**

“It’s simple,” Anessa leans against the far wall now, her back sliding down before her butt hits the ground with a light thud.  “Your tolerance to pain is unimaginable compared to a human's—that’s the pain I’m feeling now.  If that’s the case, then the pain that I’m transmitting to you must hurt twenty times more.  Am I right?  Doesn’t it hurt, _Eyeless Jack?”_

Teeth clamped together like a vice grip, his face cringing into a glare so intense that it made him want to scream into the air.  With a fist he hits the ground, then again, then again.  **_“No!  No!  How the hell is it even possible?!”_** Jack never felt pain like this—never hurt like a damn weakling.  **"HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?!"** Blackness dripped from his sockets more frequently now, puddling together beneath his face into the cream carpet.  Scrunching his nose, he looks up at her with a hate that was unimaginable.  **_“I’m…I’m gonna KILL you!”_**

He sounded like a broken record.  Anessa wondered if that statement was ever going to leave her unaffected.  Anessa also wondered if she’d live long enough to get used to him saying that.  She noticed him struggling towards her, notice the way he was crawling.  He must have been getting used to the pain, and she realized then.  If she was going to win this game with him, she had to bite through that pain far better than he could.  Anessa looked at this all like a game of mahjong.  Anessa was controlling most of the field now, and she had to keep it that way.  Leaning a finger against the floor she forces a good amount of weight against it. 

_SNAP._

**_“ARGH!”_ **

"Stay down, you bastard!"

Jack’s arm snakes inward, pressing against his hard abdomen.  The way his shoulders arched inhumanly, the noises he made.  Like a wolf the forest dying slowly.  If she were any crueler, she would enjoy this.  Something inside of her was worried that any pain she’d make him feel would return to her even worse than it should, but that didn’t seem to be the case. 

Somehow through all this agony, Anessa managed a small smile.  “This is stupid,” she grunts, biting down hard ton her tongue as she tries and swallows the pain.  Everything that was unfolding, everything that was happening, was like a bad story plot.  Two forced whose bodies were connected by some supernatural means?  The laugh that slipped from her mouth was a little louder than expected, even for her.  Jack snaps at her, face twisted with utter detestation. 

**_“What are you laughing at, you bitch?!”_ **

If it weren’t for all those bullet wounds none of this would work, she though.  Jack was bleeding out in her bedroom, incapacitated mostly by his real injuries but was stunned down by _hers_.  The irony must have drove him mad.  Must have been pushing any little fraction of sanity he had left over the edge.  “If you know about my thoughts, then you must know about what’s been happening to me,” she said, those salty tears still streaming down her face.  “What did you do to me, and how do I get rid of it,” she practically ordered him.  Another harsh snark from Jack, **_“You can’t get RID of it…it’s engraved into your DNA.  You’re no longer a human even…you’re a mistake.  A mistake that’s forever stuck in a dirty limbo.”_**

Another finger snaps, and Jack finally rolls to his side.  He was feeling weak, bleeding out profusely.  Shit—he though he would be eating her by now.  He should have eaten that man—he would be healing much faster if he did.

Silence—Jack falls silent now.  His angry growls and animalistic howls died down into nothingness, and as the wind rolled outside and the true blizzard neared, the two listened to the sounds of nature taking her course. 

Anessa wanted to wonder what to do next, wanted to make some sort of plan.  But she knew that if she did, he’d know of it.  He knew what she was thinking.  Knew what she was feeling.  Anessa wondered why she couldn’t realize _his_ thoughts.  But that’s when she realized it.  All of the times she heard his voice.  All those times she swore he was next to her when he wasn’t.  The overwhelming, unexplainable feelings she’d have. 

They were **_his,_** not hers. 

A sinister chuckle broke the silence.  Anessa watched him roll along the floor until he was facing the ceiling.  Hands reached up, clasping over his void eyes, and all she could see was that sick grin on his face.  It was him insulting her—insulting the fact that she _finally_ understood what the hell has been happening.  That she finally managed to put the pieces together.  Anessa felt her cheeks burning, the desire to drive a knife through his neck, and Jack grinned all the more. 

 ** _“Oh, Anessa…you’re too interesting for words,”_** he sighs, arms falling to his sides now.  **_“You can’t kill me…I’ll just regenerate.  No matter what you manage to do…I’ll still…come back for you.”_**   When his lids closed, and remained that way for about ten minutes, Anessa noted that he was asleep. 

Legs buckled as she finally stood up and approached him with extreme caution.  Jack wasn’t breathing, wasn’t moving. 

He looked dead.

 _That would be too easy,_ she thought, eyes narrowing as she stared at him with a meticulous intensity.  She knew he wasn’t dead, because she could feel that pain in her body subsiding.  Jack was healing tremendously fast in this catatonic state.  It must have been what he’d do when he left her chained up in the cabin all that time ago. 

During this state he was his most vulnerable. 

But something he said bothered her.  The fact that she couldn’t kill him.  The fact that he’d always come back no matter what she could manage.  She wondered if that was all true.  Possibly.  She was too uncertain to make that call.  Inside of his pocket she noticed a silver handle shining radiance from the small nightly nearby.  Reluctantly Anessa touches it with her good hand, and upon pulling it she recognized the instrument.  A scalpel was in her grasp, dirty but otherwise well-polish.  Anessa instantly felt disgusted by this—he loathed mankind, loathed them enough to torture them and treat them like some type of useless cattle.  He hated them, in yet he partaken himself in using their own devices.  Anessa felt that drive now, stronger than ever.  She rose her arm and with all her strength she plunged it for his neck. 

But right when it was about to burry deep into his throat something stops her. 

It wasn’t Jack, but it was something.  A sort of force that kept her from landing that killing blow.  A sort of…distaste.  Regret.  Something was stopping Anessa from killing him, and she didn’t know why.  “Do it…!” she urged herself, her arm shaking viciously.  It wouldn’t move.  It just trembled there, aching in the air as if it had a mind of its own. 

“DO IT!” she was hysterical.  “COME ON!” 

Instantly her arm retracts, releasing the surgical instrument onto the floor.  There, in the darkness besides Jack, Anessa cried helplessly.  She thought this whole time that those headshots she’d been aiming for were just sloppy mistakes—results of fear and panic.  Now she realized it wasn’t her making mistakes, but her _body._ Somehow, by some means that defied all laws of nature, her _mind_ and her _body_ subconsciously wouldn’t let her kill **_him._**

It was as if Jack was a _part_ of her that she needed to _protect._

She could still manage to hurt him, to give him pain.  The fact that he was sprawled on her ground with bullet wounds proved that.  But none of it killed him, and she wondered if he recognized that game changing weakness she had. 

_What if I kill myself…?!_

Anessa’s hand retrieved the scalpel again.  Floating inches before her own throat, she felt her hand shaking again.  No, she didn’t want it to end like this.  She wanted to live.  She wanted to **survive**. 

Besides, what if ending her own life didn’t actually kill him?  It didn’t make much sense.  The pain they caused each other was in fact pain, but it didn’t inflict any damage to them.  It only brought discomfort.  _Why is this happening now…why not before?_ Anessa wasn’t sure—perhaps it was a change that took time.  The thoughts she was having, _his thoughts,_ came far later than the healing factor did.  And she remembered what Jack said.

**_Suddenly, I felt you…!_ **

Assuming he wasn’t lying it was abrupt for him too.  If any other changes came to her, she doubted she could handle much more.  She could barely handle the trials she was facing now.  Anessa was dealing with an _unkillable killer._ There possibly was no way around it. 

**_You can’t get rid of it…it’s engraved into your DNA._ **

That, too, was bothering her. 

 _This is all a nightmare,_ she felt her head lean back onto her mattress, and heard a light bell jingling as one of her cats leaped onto it.  Her aching neck was dull compared her disfigured hand.  Jack was still asleep, and she wondered how long it would be until he opened his eyes and had another go with her again.  Most likely not long, she assumed.  So, for now she was going to wait.  There was no way she could kill him, at least nothing she could think of now.  And she doubted she would find a way by the time he woke up. 

Anessa heard the blizzard raging on outside, and she listened.


	11. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyeless Jack realizes that his connection with Anessa has changed him. Unsure of the regrets that pool in his mind, he makes a drastic change in his plans.

 

_I can’t kill him…_

_…there’s nothing I can do._

A rattling breath tore open dry, tense lungs.  Jack’s lips opened, the air burning his throat.  Bones cracked from the sudden movement, his body slowly reviving from his deep state.  Jack was coming back to life, just like the times where he watch Anessa’s writhing body beneath him.  It’s been years since he’d be out for that long, since his body received so much damage.  Jack never dreams—never.  But in his hibernation, he heard a voice speaking on occasion. 

It didn’t take much for him to realize that it was Anessa’s voice.

Head darting side to side, Jack scanned the area with his killer instincts.  There was no one around him, nor was there much of a sound.  Currently, Jack was inside of Anessa’s bedroom, the last place he remembered being in.  In fact, he was still on the floor. 

_Interesting,_ he thought, hands reaching up to his field of vision.  Right now, two of his fingers could barely move.  That pain was still there, pulsating with every twitch the surrounding muscles did.  Teeth clenched together.  Jack found the pain annoying.  Not as unbearable, but annoying.  When he stood, he felt his body stall.  Another growl comes from him, disgust coursing through his veins.  The weakness he was feeling was a mix between his body’s usual sluggish nature after hibernation and the pain that the human was feeling. 

It came to him suddenly; the awareness that she was alive somewhere.  Jack took the descent down the stairs, his movements loud and firm as always, and at the bottom he saw a small furry creature in the corner. 

Rolly the cat was eyeing Jack cautiously.  The monster turns his full attention to it, a growl rumbling in his chest.  The cat hisses, but Jack responds with a loud, hellish roar. 

It scatters away, bolting across the house, and in the kitchen beyond his range of vision he heard a pained, exhausted voice. 

“Stay away from my cats…”

Jack felt his ears perch up, felt his skin crawl.  One limp, two limps—slowly he makes his way towards the room.  Inside, the lights dimly lit the room.  A storm raged outside, snow flurrying by on the other side of the windows.  The sliding door Jack had destroyed prior was blocked with the same table, however Anessa had managed to use plenty of duct tape to hold it in place. 

Anessa was hunched on a tall stool facing the entrance, the bar extension erected from the wall being used as a support for her back.  Jack could see the way her shoulders slunk, the way her fingers arched awkwardly.  She had bandaged her damaged digits with some type of gauze, and her ankle was hanging loosely in the air.  It looked like it was dislodged, damaged beyond repair, and though her fingers were in rather good condition her ankle was far from it.

Jack could feel the recovery she was going through, and could feel the lack thereof.  Fingers dug into his aged black pants, the cloth above his thick thigh gathering beneath his bloody palm.  Even though she made his blood boil, even though he hated the sight of her, something made his lips pull into a grin. 

She looked pathetic, weathered, tired as hell.  But the fact that she was still sitting, the fact that she was _waiting_ for him.  The fact that she was holding a _knife_. 

The two stood there staring at one another in a silent showdown.  The amount of damage she was in was substantial enough to render her mostly useless.  Anessa was absolutely sure that Jack was more than capable of killing her, regardless of any pain that he would feel from it.  The connection they had, though they didn’t quite understand it, was something that she didn’t enjoy.  It was a curse, mostly, and Anessa wondered if dying was really that bad.  Hell, it would probably be a blessing at this point. 

But, when Jack didn’t make the first move it irked her.  What was happening right now wasn’t exactly how she panned this all to happen.  She expected Jack to come down bloodthirsty and blinded by rage—the persona she’d seen from him as of late. 

Right now, he was lax and motionless, his thoughts hidden beneath a stone expression.  She wanted to know what he was thinking—she wondered for the longest time while waiting for him to awaken.  Was she capable of reading his thoughts, too?  She heard him in her mind on occasion.  Heard him thinking, but they were so directed to her.  As if he meant for it to happen.  As if he was the one controlling it all. 

“Not entirely,” he said, sounding the most calm than he’s ever been, and it made her hairs stand.  The grip on her knife tightened, and when Jack still didn’t budge even a hair she rose her guard higher. 

“How did you do that,” she demanded more so then asked.  Jack was playing with her again, enjoying the moment while it lasted.  She figured he was playing with his food, per say.  Still, she wanted answers before she died.  She wanted to understand just how the hell it was all even capable.  Logical.

Jack was quieter than a rock, which was substantially quiet to begin with.  It made her pissed to all hell.  Jack senses it, the corners of his lips twitching upward into a sickening grin, and Anessa couldn’t fight the growl that ached her sore throat.  None of her thoughts were hers anymore.  As if situations couldn’t turn any grimmer, they completely went for his favor.  She could see Jack now, at least.  See the damage that had been done to him was all gone now.  The burns, the bullet wounds, the cuts: it was all completely healed.  Jack had been asleep for a long time, about 13 hours.  During that time, Anessa took the liberty and checked on him three times, all of which he hadn’t even budged.  He healed tremendously well during that state, and ironically that was his most potent point of vulnerability. 

He was still limping when he made his way towards her, causing her to shrink deeper into her seat.  Nowhere to go.  Nothing to do.  The look on her face was threatening, warned him to stay away, but as she slashed her knife through the air to limit his access he simply caught the blade barehanded.  With a twist of his wrist he snaps the metal, popping her wrist in the process.  Anessa scowls when she felt the corner of flesh between her thumb and index rip from the strong motion.  Retreating her arm back towards her, she winced when his powerful grip yanks her forward.  Jack didn’t present any emotion.  He wasn’t cackling, or grinning, or growling.  He was just staring at her. 

By far, it was the scariest she’s seen it.  It made her think of all that time ago, when he had her chained up.  When he _touched_ her body.  She felt like a lackluster gem in his hands.  Felt the raw power he had when he simply squeezed her arm a little _too_ tight.  Jack rose her hand into view, her palm open and facing him, and when he ran his tongue along her open cut she could feel the hot muscle drag painfully slow along her skin. 

It stung her, at least a little bit, but the act was what made her heartbeat pick up.  Jack enjoyed her flavor, lathered his tongue in it, and when she felt him burry his fingers into her hair again she couldn’t help but whimper. 

Finally, it was happening.      

She was going to die. 

Jack felt a little prideful.  He enjoyed the pain he was feeling.  He knew how strong he was, but he never felt it first hand before.  Something inside of him sprouted deep from his gut when he pulled her hair.  A spike of excitement.  Fear and, oddly enough, arousal.  The two often went hand in hand for him as he killed someone.  The arousal was his own, but the look on her face.  The tears that welled up in the corners of her red eyes.  The way her lips pressed tightly together as she stared at the ceiling, the walls, anything but him. 

She felt it too, didn’t she?

That twisted grin of his was getting wider now, teeth sharp and angular clicking before he ran his tongue out.  “Do you feel that?” he was cooing gently, hunching over and smelling her rich scent.  It was so potent, like a rare flower, and he wished he could turn it into a keepsake to refer to when she was gone. 

“That’s what _power_ feels like.” 

Anessa felt the heat of his body pressing against her, the way his nails started digging into her sides.  Insides shivered as a heat built up, and when she felt his tongue lap up her clavicle she couldn’t bite down a small moan.  Anessa never felt so ashamed in her life.  So disgusted with herself. 

This wasn’t her feelings.  They were all his feelings.  That’s what she kept telling herself.  But every time her breath picked up, every time she shivered under his gruesome touch, she felt herself dipping deeper into that pool of self-hate. 

She never wanted to kill a man so much, and when he felt that _malice_ of hers merging with his own, his grip tightening against her scalp, he couldn’t help but laugh.  Something about this made him very excited, but also very confused.  A splurge of emotions that weren’t entirely his own.  If he killed her now everything would go back to normal.  Those nails of his dug into her trachea now, the ridged cartilage dancing under the pads of his warm thumbs.  A bit more pressure and he heard a small pop.  Anessa gasps.    

There was a terribleness ripping inside of his core like a vicious, trapped animal. Jack didn’t know what it was at first. Powerful, raw emotion that quaked the monster’s very being. Clammy palms shivered as he gripped around her slender neck tighter. Nail pricked her skin, exposing red beads that soaked up into his cuticles.  The animals in his gut went into a quick flurry just as Anessa began to cry beneath his strangle.   

It was fear he was feeling.  Pure, true, intense fear that welled up in his gut before bubbling around the tube of his esophagus.  Jack wanted to vomit from the sensation, wanted to high tail and run.  It wasn’t HIS fear though, it was HERS.  The senseless, pathetic fears of a human worm.  The power of his own grasp, the heat of his own body, came back to him tenfold.  Came back to him as if he were threatening himself. Anessa’s gasped turned into short, painful weeps that rung in his ears.  He was digging his fingers into her flesh, tugging at her skin, grinding beneath it against bone.  It wasn’t the pain that bothered him though.  The pain that was transmitting into his own throat.  It was the panic.  Anessa feared for her life.  Trembled at his inhuman touch.

So did he.

With a handful of her hair he shook her violently, demandingly.  Something glistened deep within the pits where eyes should be.  Black goop globed up, seeped down his face like inky tear streaks.  “Stop it...!” He screamed, the boom of his voice quaking her very soul.  Just then the panic became worse—tenfold—and Jack felt his eyes water and his throat tighten until it was sore.

“Damn you...stop... **you’re making this impossible!** ”

Painful fingers pressed along her lips, silencing her screams into meek and muffled mewls.  Her chest was about to explode, she was going to piss herself, she wanted to fucking vomit.  Jack couldn’t stand it—right when tears threatened to stream down his own face, he yanks her forward before slamming her head onto the counter.

Anessa shrieks, if only for a moment, before the impact rendered her unconscious.  Jack released her, allowing her body to slump to the ground as he followed suit.  Heavy, uneven breathes staggered from his quivering mouth as a hand laced around his throat, squeezing tightly as if to bring him some form of comfort.

Holy shit—that was the worse feeling he ever went through.

Now was the time to just finish the fucking job.  There was a flash of something.  A microscopic doubt inside of him.  So small and miniscule of a dissuasion in killing her.  It rippled at her core, tore around his brain like an annoying ringing.  Jack felt a stall in his motives that froze him solid.  Though this strange moment, Anessa still slept.  Fixation laced his face—Jack looked like he was reassessing things.  He looked confused, disturbed even.  

“Oh, Jack…are you getting **_sentimental_**?” he spoke to himself, something he…never really did often.  It was an odd act to catch himself doing, but not as odd as how stuck he was.  All eagerness to kill her died fast like the flames of a weak campfire.  Any longing need to eat instantly flew out the window, and instead the need to sit down and _recuperate_ felt more plausible. 

_Recuperate,_ he thought bitterly, lips almost tearing at the intense sneer he made to himself.  Jack never felt so human before.  Any sense of emotions he’d catch himself having, he’d instantly stop and focus at the task in hand.  He grips her head now, the sound of her yelping quick and sharp as he slammed her head onto the counter.  Jack’s teeth bore, his brows arched low as he glares at her through the sudden pain over the right side of his skull.  When he seats her up, he noticed her body slumping towards him. 

She was out could. 

_Dumb bitch,_ Jack thought bitterly.  The weight of her was leaning against his chest at its entirety now, the warmth of her body hotter than he would expect. 

Now that Jack wasn’t lost in his bloodlust, he was capable of thinking.  He found this entire ordeal interesting.  Jack knew his blood could heal quite a bit.  He knew that his blood worked in a way that was far superior to most.  The thought of it bringing Anessa’s corpse back to life was a long stretch.  Truthfully, he didn’t think it would work.  But it did.  _Twice_.  The changes it made to her were beyond intriguing.  It was something that the intellectual side of him wanted to understand more; wanted to learn from.  Not that it would be a valuable knowledge—Jack never intended on using his genes to _save_ anyone before.  That was all just a spark from his animal-like curiosity.  Which all made the strange case of Anessa Milch even _stranger_. 

For all he knew, this human was now the _closest_ living entity that was remotely like _him._

That made his jaw clench.  Why did he care so much? 

Shit—was he really getting **_sentimental?_**

Jack never felt that way before.  Never valued anyone.  He would doubt it and pass it on as hunger and nothing more, but just then he caught himself gently rolling her hair between two fingers.  Thoughtfully, admirably. 

Another hard grip of her scalp.  Jack angles her face upwards towards him and stares into it.  She looked calm, peaceful.  A little human that was lost in total darkness.  Right now, she wasn’t dreaming.  It was too soon, otherwise he’d see them.  Like a sudden motion picture flashing in his mind, interrupting what he was doing.  It was terrible when that happened during the worse times, like during a hunt or a steak out. 

Still, she was a rather… _pretty_ …woman.  Something that attracted the sight of other men.  Jack took a moment to observe her, though, in a way that he never did before.  She was pale skinned, her lips not thin, nor full, and her brows arched.  She had an average fit frame, a body he’d seen bare once or twice.  But Jack was too busy looking at her face. 

It was a pleasant sight. 

“…”

When Anessa finally woke up, she was laid down on her living room couch.  Cold snow patched her carpet.  Snow that seeped in through one of the many damaged windows.  Her body jolts up, her bones cracking from the swift motion.  On a chair across from her was Jack, seated and hunched over to lean onto his own knees.  That mask of his was back on, hiding his face.  Anessa felt her chest fluttering, felt her digits press onto the soft flesh of her neck to assess the damage.  Whatever bruising he left behind was gone now. 

There was a crack from Jack’s jaw as he wiggled it left to right, the motion looking like it was dislodged from the joints.  “You should almost be fully healed by now.”  He wasn’t lying.

She felt no pain.

Fingers bent into a fist, squeezing hard before releasing again, and repeat.  Those broken bones radiated with a numbing ache.  They were mostly healed.  Any unnecessary stress to them and they would surely break with ease.  Anessa looks at him again.  He was motionless, watching her as she shifted uncomfortably on her furniture. 

Anessa croaks, “What...did you lose your appetite?”  The tone was rather insulting, yet the monster doesn’t hiss or bite.  Without much darkness to his words he spoke, “I won’t be killing you for now.” 

For now, that’s what stood out the most for her.  A hand reaches up to fix her messy bangs.  Sweat coated her skin like a shiny layer of latex, and through the poor lighting of her flickering electricity Anessa realized just how serious he might be. 

“You felt it didn't you...the fear?”

The grey monster didn't respond, but that gave Anessa wind to her flame.  She dared to lean forward, stare directly at him, unafraid.  "You didn't kill me because you were afraid, weren't you?  You felt what you did to people, and you couldn't even handle it."  Jack screams something, words that merged with a monstrous tone that only only surfaced when he was bloodthirsty.  It made Anessa jump, made her eyes go big like dish pans, and she rocketed back into her sofa like he was going to pounce.  But he didn't, he simply jerk back into his own seat.  

That alone was proof.  Whenever she felt a true, raw, intense emotion, it affected him. 

“Why are you still here?” she turns to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest.  Anessa looked short-tempered.  It was unbelievable at how she was talking to him—like he was a hitch hiker she picked up, but couldn’t get out of her home.  Like he was an old roommate that just wouldn’t leave her the hell alone.  Right now, Jack presented no feelings.  He was like a frozen lake.  There was no motion, no sound, not even a single splash from any fish below.  “Why did you stay?  Why won’t you leave me alone?”

One of Jack’s feet slammed hard onto the ground again, his muscles tense beneath thin jeans.  **" _Because you aren't dead yet."_** It was his way of telling her to shut up.  _Why do humans ask so many question?_ She heard his voice ringing deep in her mind.  His thoughts she assumed.  "Just kill me and end it then.  What's even holding you back?"  Goosebumps formed on her skin, and for the first time in a long time Anessa drops her guard.  Neck slack, her head falls between her legs as she lets out a long-winded sigh.  He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, but he was careful not to analyze the question.  Anessa earned no thoughts, no answers, and no reaction.  Jack just breathed, a little bit loudly too, and stared though her like she wasn’t even in the room.

“Okay,” Anessa said mainly to herself, slinging her head to the side to assess the room around her.  It was cluttered and disheveled, in dire need of a clean up crew.  A weak ankle slowed her down as she stood up to retrieve some items.  A blue tarp was in hand that she’d ripped into two, along with silver duct tape, and Anessa begins to seal up first window in the other room.  Once that was done, she took the remaining bit of blue tarp to seal up the second window.  Jack was near it, watching her intently as she worked.  A part of her was trying to keep mind on what she was doing—trying to ignore the fact that he was there eyeballing her. 

He really _wasn’t_ going to kill her yet, was he? 

It was terrible knowing that she couldn’t have any thoughts of her own, in yet he could keep to himself just by not _thinking._ Anessa wasn’t sure if she could do that.  Perhaps it was because he was a monster?  Perhaps because he was the one that caused this all, he was more capable of reading her than she could him? 

_The playing field is looking grim,_ Anessa thought, hearing another noise behind him.  Jack must have heard that thought.  Another frown from Anessa as she rips tape between her teeth.  Wind blows outsides, the blizzard coming to a calm.  Once the next day passes, she will have to return to work like normal. 

“If you tell anyone I’m here,” Jack’s voice broke the silence like a doctor with long awaited news.  Anessa dared to looked at him now.  When he sat up he still looked tall and menacing, and that intimidated Anessa.  Jack stood up, approached her like he was going to hit her.  He was so close she could smell the old blood off of him.

“…If you even _think_ about asking for help…I’ll know.  And while I kill them, I will make you watch.”

It was a short threat, but it left a lot of sting in the air.  Anessa’s throat burned from how tight it got.  If there was any way around this, she couldn’t even formulate it, because he would know it.  Reluctantly, defeating, she shook her head to show she understood.  Anessa didn’t dare to look up at him, so she instead stared at his neck.  Jack, for a moment, hunched over a little bit.  Close enough to where she could feel her hair press against his moist mask.  There was the sound of him smelling her; deep breaths and a series of guttural sounds.  Jack finished abruptly, not once laying a hand on her as he stalked away to the other room.  Anessa's father always told her that women were complicated, but men were just as confusing.  

She wondered if that applied to monsters.

Somewhere in the home the monster she became a part of fell deathly silent.  As Anessa carried on with her chores, she was accompanied by a cloud of despair.  She cleaned her home, not knowing what else there was to do, and as she ascended the stairs to find all her cats intact she proceeded to bleaching her rug. 

Soon, the storm will pass, and Anessa had to return to her duties normally.  Knowing that Jack will be waiting for her to return home. 

 

 


	12. Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the past month, Jack has taken refuge in Anessa's house. He warns her to not mention him to others, otherwise they will be met with a terrible fate. Anessa manages to remain headstrong and resilient, but another physiological change begins to take it's course. Anessa no longer feels satiated from eating her usual meals.

 

“Hey, Loch Ness,” Dylan’s voice was like a fog light to her rescue.  It guided her from her cloudy mind, dragged her out of a total darkness.

Anessa blinks, tired looking eyes rolling up to meet his.  Dylan looked very concerned.  “Ya okay?  You’ve zoned out like six times already.”

She’s been doing that a lot.  If she didn’t, she’d end up _thinking_ again.  Jack’s warning was very clear.  _Do not_ think about escaping.  _Do not_ think about trying get out of this nightmare.  And most importantly, _do not_ think about asking for help.  He’d know about it.  He’s see her thoughts—he always saw her thoughts.  So, Anessa did what she thought was best.  She didn’t even let herself think at all.  The coffee generated enough heat to steam.  It drifted from her beverage like some sort of strange apparition from one of those corny ghost shows.  Nose flaring, she could smell the stench of coffee beans and half  & half, all accompanied by a spoon full of honey.  “Yeah—just tired.”

“You look it.  You been sleeping lately?  You’re getting those panda looking eyes.”

Dark circles make her eyes look sunken.  Her hair was a bit messy, and her skin was clammy at every waking moment. 

Jack hunted last night.  She had visions in her sleep of screaming voices and mutilated carcasses.  She witnessed some sort of killing—whether it was human or not she wasn’t sure.  When she woke up for work, she worried Jack had left a body somewhere for her to find.  She worried that the station would notify of a body being found.  None of it came.  It gave her some peace of mind.

Then she worried about Jack leaving a trail.  He lived with her now.  _Lived_ with her.  There was a trail of blood in her house—dirty footprints merged with mud and snow.  She gave Jack a glare, and was about to give him an earful, but she admittedly was too scared to even attempt it.  Jack would shut her up in a heartbeat.  Still, as cruel as the thought was, she didn’t want him being caught in her home. 

She didn’t want to be blamed for people being murdered.

Anessa was having a guilty conscience, because she began to wonder if she really _was_ guilty.  The killer was right under her grasp, in yet she did nothing about it.  That obviously made her just as responsible, right?

 _Oh God_ , she hoped not.

A small smile graces her lips when Dylan pokes the side of her cheek playfully.  “Theeeere she is!”

“Quit it,” her hand wasps him away, but he only chuckled.  There was an awkward silence between the two, Dylan busy fumbling with his torn hat. 

“Need any help cleaning up your place?”

Dylan never offered to come over before.  If things were different, she’d probably say yes.  “…no, I’m good.  Just a few stray branches.  Nothing to be worried about,” Anessa takes a sip of her coffee.  It didn’t taste right.  It tasted…bland.  Tearing open another pack of sugar, she dumps it into her drink before jiggling it around to stir.  Dylan raises a brow, “That’s your eighth pack.”

“I know.”

 _Why can’t I taste anything?_ Her hands were visibly shaking, just a little, and she felt her eyelids grow heavy.  _Please…don’t let it be from him._

Four packs later, it still tasted the same.  Anessa complained that it was _too_ sweet now for the sake of Dylan.  Eight long, painful, boring hours passed.  The most excitement Anessa and Dylan earned that day was a trip to a game store and having to escort a homeless man out of the park.  Nothing else but that.  Driving home, Anessa felt very tired.  A few times she had to force herself awake.  Had to put the AC on high and the music volume loud.  Anything to stay awake.  When the road fuzzed in and out like white noise, she knew that there was something wrong. 

She slept enough, surprisingly.  She ate enough too, even though it all tasted flavorless.  Like how she tasted things when she was sick.  The driveway was pitch black upon her return.  Anessa steps out of her car, a flashlight in hand, and she approaches the doorway.  Old blood that once stained her porch was gone now.  She remembered Jack disposing of the body during the storm, and though Anessa hadn’t asked him, he even disposed of the car.  Perhaps it was to prevent her from using it against him?  The thought never crossed her mind until now though, so that didn’t make much sense.  There was no reason for him to be paranoid if she herself didn’t think about it.  That was a month ago.

Turning the lock, she heard the small sound of the metal workings clicking to the motion.  The door opens, and she takes a step inside of her home.  A place that was meant to give her peace.  Now, it only made her feel more on edge. 

Heavy steps echoed through the hall—her steps.  Uneven, messy paced, and loud footsteps drew her cats out from their hiding places.  It was the sound of her keys jingling, the sound of that they’ve grown fond of.  Her furry creatures skittered about, approached her playfully before rubbing along her legs.  She felt her body giving out, her shoulder dragging along the wall as she passed the first entrance on her right and headed straight for the staircase.  Sweat coated her skin, which was lackluster and a little lifeless looking.  _I need to sleep,_ she thought, her fingers rubbing into her scalp.  She noticed the dark figure on top staring down at her.  A tall, looming darkness.   

“You’re hungry.” 

Anessa glances up to see Jack, his faced masked.  She hadn’t seen him without it since that day.  To be honest, she preferred it that way.  Eyes narrowed, but not into a glare.  She was just so tired, she didn’t care for the fact that he had spoken to her in the first time in a few days. 

“I already ate before I got here,” she huffs, continuing forward to try and bypass him. 

A hot hand clasps along her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks.  Eyes widen, her stare cautious as she snaps him a full glance.  Jack was still, like a stone statue, towering over her petite body. 

“That _food_ won’t help you.”

The situation irked Anessa.  A whole month of hiding, inside and out, finally started to strike a nerve.  “What’s it matter to you?” she snapped, jerking her arm free from his grasp.  Jack wasn’t holding onto her very hard, so it took Anessa little effort.  The motion made her dizzy, made her sway and little.  It aggravated her more.  Legs spread open to support her weight, but her eyes were still burning with that sudden anger.  “You don’t care—all you’ve been doing is threatening me.  Quit stalking me.  Just disappear somewhere and stay out of my business!  Unless you’re ready to kill me, leave me alone!”  Anessa’s door slams shut. 

Jack felt that anger.  It was stupid of her to let it slip.  But self-control wasn’t an option right now.  Anessa was too busy shaking with raw anger.  That night she slept, and was bombarded with a nightmare. 

She wasn’t sure where she was.  There were trees around her, and it was cold.  Very cold.  Much so, that it ached her bones brittle.  Anessa remembered this feeling.  It was like when she faced the blizzard after burning Jack’s home down.  Only now, it was worse.  She didn’t know how she got there, and she kept hearing the panicked breaths of a man. 

It took a long while for her to notice that those breaths were coming from of _her_.  Eyes looked down—her hands, they were big.  Big, calloused, wide.  Nothing like her slender ones.  She couldn’t speak—she couldn’t cry out for help.  Scream in confusion.  All she could do was look at those hands.  Fingers bent, and as she turned them side to side she noticed the dark grey blotches that formed beneath the skin.  It was like ink staining paper, eating away at the parchment until it was completely covered with darkness. 

The hands were turning grey, and the color left a path of utter pain.  She screamed, but it wasn’t her voice.  It was deep, guttural, a messy transition from human into…something else.

When a loud ringing woke her up she was soaking with sweat.  Anessa’s eyes watered as fresh tears stained her pillows.  The first thing she went for was her hands.  They were flesh colored and slender. 

Her hands.

“Oh…shit,” fingers stretched over her lips.  Vertigo was hitting her, spiraling her world out of control.  The feeling she had was something people got when they hadn’t eaten.  A hypoglycemic state, she remembered learning in high school.  It was like total nausea and light headedness.  A weakness that was incredibly hard to overcome.  And with it, confusion.  The phone was ringing loudly downstairs, deafening her heightened senses like a freight train collided outside her house.  “Gotta get that…dammit,” she heaves herself up before opening the door to her room.  Legs wobbled down the steps. 

Her body was like a slinky without balance.  If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that the world was shifting under her.  It wasn’t of course.  The furniture remained unfazed, and that was proof enough.  By the time she reached the phone, sweat still coating her slender body, the ringing had stopped.  The phone gave off a long, never ending dial tone. 

“Dammit…!” she slams it back into the receiver. 

Shit—her body was hurting so much.  She felt like she’d been beaten. 

Could it be possible that Jack was hurt? 

Anessa pressed her back against the counter and slid along it until she hit the floor.  Legs quivered with intensity.  It was like she was falling apart.  She could barely make out her black sweat pants, the image fading in and out.  _What’s happening?  My stomach…it hurts so much….!_ Fingers laced underneath her tank top to massage her tummy.  There was some hope that it would numb the pain, but it only made her belly growl loudly.  When a tall, gangly looking body turned the corner, she barely noticed it standing in the corner of her eye.  Jack loomed over the counter, gazing at her dully, like what he was seeing wasn’t out of the norm.  Anessa’s fingers dig into her stomach, tearing at the skin, and at the small moment where her concentration breaks she felt tears begin to stream down her face. 

“What…what’s happening…to me…?” the question was nothing but a weak whimper. 

Jack was breathing, slowly, and though she barely could make it out she still saw his hand visibly clenching his gut.  The pain was being transmitted, but Jack seemed totally fine.  Like he was expecting it, or used to it.  Footsteps approached her, muffled noises between heavy breaths.  He knelt down before her, his free hand pressing a palm up to her forehead.  Hot sweat dripped down her, and his touch only made her sensitive skin blister.  Jack earned a whimper, and his head tilts curiously. 

“You’re hungry.”

_What…?_

Teeth chattered, her eyes rolling up so far that they almost reached the back of her head.  “No…I ate last night!  It’s…it’s like I’m starving…”  Jack lightly scratched her scruffy hair as it to sooth her, watched as her head hung low.  Shoulders shook violently, clattering the cupboard behind her.  Anessa’s teeth pressed together hard—of course he was enjoying this.  Why wouldn’t he be?  She was in incredible pain, and he didn’t even need to lift a finger against her. 

There was nothing… _nothing_ …like starving to death. 

Fingers curled, nails bending a little too far against the kitchen tiles, and when Jack stood up her arms jerked forward to latch onto his grimy sleeves. 

“ **Jack…”**

Hearing his name made him freeze.  Her body hunches forward, her back arching like she was about to wretch all over the floor.  “How do…I make it stop?”  It sounded like it pained her to speak.  Words spilled from her wet, downturned lips like burning acid.  A sniffle, she could feel the snot building up in her sinuses, and a fist rubs against her wet nose shakily.  “I…I can’t take it…it hurts so much…!” 

Jack stared at her for some time.  The clock down the hall was ticking, a light snap that echoed along the drywalls.  That grip of hers went as her arms became limp.  They hung loosely along her sides, and she sat there crying.  It was disturbing to watch, disgusting.  So much, that Jack had a hard time looking.  He didn’t say anything anymore.  By the time Anessa looked up he was already leaving the dining area.  Silent, cold, distant.  Of course, he wasn’t going to help her.  A sad whimper comes out of her throat, and when Anessa felt herself crying again she conceals it with a loud scream.  It hurt her throat, but she kept at it. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

 ** _“I…I hate you!”_** she screamed, fists slamming against the ground repeatedly.  **_“I hate you!  I hate you!”_** If she hadn’t met him—if she hadn’t been taken by Jack—then none of this would have happened.  The force of her uncontrollable anger lashed out with each slam.  Beneath her force, the tiles gave out by the fifth punch.  Cracking under her, she could feel her skin tear and her bones near the point of shattering. 

_Jingle.  Jingle._

Eyes dart up beneath a curtain of messy dark hair.  Anessa saw her white cat, Bart, rounding the corner, a cautious look on its face.  Jack must have left, otherwise they wouldn’t be out. 

_Grumble._

That stomach of hers was hurting.  It spoke to her like a demon trapped in a cage.  _Feed me.  Feed me. **Feed me.**_ A broken breath stutters from her lungs, her gaze molten as she twitches her head awkwardly to the side. 

 _“Psst,”_ she calls.  _“C’mere baby…come on Barty.”_

Anessa unveils a bloody hand from beneath her, wobbly as she reached for her pet.  To her surprise, it hisses.  A string inside of her snapped.  Something hideous was happening inside of her, working her muscles and ripping at her brain. 

**_Eat!_ **

_“ **FUCKING CAT!** ”_

Her body lunges forward, the cat skittering madly across the house.  Anessa felt her messily stomp after, using the walls and furniture to aid her pursuit.  Just before her father’s old cat could reach its usual couch, she snatches the end of it’s tail.  A loud yowl comes from its throat, the cat clawing as she presses it’s face against the carpeting.  There was thick drool coming from Anessa’s stretched lips, monstrous breaths tugging heavily at her lungs when she tore through fur and skin.  _Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat._

**_E A T._ **

Outside was snowing.  The sun was long set, but it would still be a while before it’s return.  Around this time, animals slept, but they hid in obscure places from the wolves.  Jack was better than a wolf.  When he prowled the darkness, and wolves feared him.  From a mile away, they could smell his scent.  Inhuman, putrid, and laced with death.  The packs would turn their noses and run, and Jack often times rewarded himself with the taste of their flesh.  Though they weren’t the best source of meat, the fact that they were a difficult chase made the feel of their beating veins popping beneath his gums even sweeter.  He craved that feeling.  The feeling of power, but he settled for a doe. 

The carcass was heavy, even for him, and though he was capable of carrying it to Anessa’s home he didn’t want to bother with struggling.  Messily he chops into it’s side with his single remaining scalpel, quartering off a thigh.  This should do the trick, he thought.  Venturing home, he sees the dim light hanging from Anessa’s back porch.  Jack takes his heavy steps up the wooden stairs, hearing the creak as it resistant against his weight plus some.  Bloody hands reached towards the new glass door Anessa had installed, and with little effort he slid it open.  Blood stained where he touched, though he didn’t care.  The fool could wash it away, keep her little home pristine.  Jack didn’t change the way he lived for her.  And he wasn’t intending to.  The home filled with his musky scent again—nature and man and old blood.  Grimy foot steps followed his every move, and as he approached the kitchen he noticed she was gone. 

“…” 

Jack’s ears perched at the sound of something all too familiar.  A wet, slapping, snapping sort of sound.  There was blood in the air—fresh blood, but not the blood of a deer.  _What is that?_ Placing the slab on meat on the floor he steps over it to approach the noise.  In the living room, he finally finds Anessa, sitting perfectly still on the ground.  She faced the side, but her front remained a bit out of view.

“…I feel a little better,” he heard her voice cut the silence.  It was soft, hush, but something about it was melancholy.  Fingers rolled into fists when he noticed something dark and thick running down the length of Anessa’s arm.  It smeared her chest, her mouth, and from her eyes she was still shedding tremendous amounts of tears.  There was no break in her voice, but there was agony.  Like she had done something terrible, and regretted it. 

“I…don’t know what happened to me…but it made me feel better.”

The body of her cat was torn to pieces, sprawled in front of her like a child’s toy.  Jack’s lids shot open, and though he didn’t have eyes he could feel the shock that laced his face.  Beneath his mask, Jack’s jaw clenched, and his brows arched down.  Anessa was sitting with her cat’s remains, fingers wrapped around intestine and entrails. 

 _What…what the hell,_ Jack gasps, his shoulders tensing when she ran a tongue along her chin.  She must have done it subconsciously, because she was staring at her hands with childlike disbelief.  “What’s…wrong with me…!”  Anessa’s hands latch around herself, and she feels the smoothness of blood smothering along her skin.  Hunching over, she cowers in herself.  “I…I liked it but…I know I shouldn’t!  I want it to stop!”

Jack saw the way the blood coated her, and it did something to him.  It made his heart race a bit faster.  Made his skin burn.  Something about seeing her like this made him excited.  Jack deemed her safe to approach, so he slowly nears her body.  She either wasn’t acknowledging him or didn’t notice him.  Jack’s arms wrapped around her, earning no reaction, and he lifts her from the ground with ease.  The kitchen was in view, and in the air she smelt something.  Her body felt the cold ground, eyes colliding with a pool of blood that surrounded something furry. 

“Eat it.”

Jack’s voice was cold and demanding, and it made her realize the painful reality.  Anessa just ate her father’s cat.  She lost herself to something _terrible._ And she would have been crying if it weren’t for the flesh splattered on her floor.  There wasn’t any resistance to her movements.  Anessa crawls over like a starved predator.  The scent of dead deer, the gamy flavor of the venison.  The stench of wild animal could rear the nose of any man, but it did the opposite to Anessa.  She was drooling, her teeth sinking into the meat nearest to the thigh bone.  A loud squishy sound was made as she tore into the flesh.  She swallowed without chewing, ate like a dog during dinner.  Quickly, with no time to spare.  Like it was going to be taken away.  Like another animal was going to leap out and steal it from her. 

Like she wasn’t a human at all.

Jack watched this with amazement.  With such intensity.  It was so _invigorating._ Blood coursed through his body, tensed his lean muscles.  He could feel his sharp teeth pressing together with incredible force.  The sight of her hunched over, burying her hands into it.  Biting down at skin and tearing away at the fur.  Anessa showed no disgust, no remorse.  Quickened breaths came from her parted lips, her tongue curling out to lick away the blood.  She moans with content as the awful feelings subsided. 

It was a pure, animalistic beauty. 

Excitement made a growl roll from Jack’s lips.  His firm abdomen clenched, his legs trembling.  This was like before—when he saw her slit that dying animals throat with no hesitation.  Like she did it before, like she’d do it again.  Only this time, it was far more intimate.  He could feel her excitement.  Eating that meal after starving for so long felt so **_good._**  

_Breathtaking._

When a small whimper staggers from her throat it pulls Jack from his trance.  Anessa was still feasting, but through her bites and swallows she would cry.  This was…absolutely **horrifying.** She ate like a monster.  No, she **was** a monster.  Hands pressed against her eyes now in an attempt to stop her tears, but it was no use. 

She was losing.  Any humanity in her was dying, and she didn’t want it to. 

In the overwhelming emotions, Anessa leans into the mess of hair and flesh and cries louder.  The world was crashing down now.  That survivor’s pride, her strong will, her reasons to live.  It all seemed like a joke now.  That was slipping away like a breeze.  Too quickly for her to catch, and with no form for her to grasp onto.  Anessa loathed it all, yet she enjoyed it too much.   

It was over.  She might as well die. 

Arms wrapped around her hips, startling her but not stopping her sobs.  Jack was carrying her somewhere, but the blood and pools of tears in her eyes blinded her vision.  Anessa’s balled fists punched pathetically against his chest, doing no damage.  She wails, but he was like steal.  Nothing could hurt him, especially not her.  Not right now, not ever.  Anessa barely noticed her bathroom.  The light flicks on, and she felt the slippery floor of her shower.  Water pipes groaned beneath the ground, shaking violently.  First, the shower water was freezing cold.  It rained icy water on Anessa’s head, but the temperature slowly transitioned into hot.  It didn’t draw her from the darkness that plagued her mind.  Didn’t stop the tears from falling. 

The water around her was pink now, she could see blood swirling in it.  Fingers touched her face, graced her like she was the most breakable thing in existence.  Jack’s mask was still dark and blue, but she managed to make out spots where flames had licked.  It left dark blotches, and smoothed out the rigid cuts from the past.  Black fluid seeped from the sockets as always, and still to this day Anessa didn’t know what the stuff was.  The pain was gone now, but the exhaustion lingered.  She was terribly sleepy.  Jack’s gentle touches only made it worse.  The pad of his thumb rubbed along her cheek, presumably to wash off some blood that crusted, but soon he traveled down to her lips. 

A memory of Jack touching her breasts flashed through her mind.  This touch was similar.  Firm, but nothing like when he tried to kill her.  _“Anessa.”_ His voice was chilly and thick.  A simple whisper.  It still shook her to the core, even though she was extremely dazed.  Jack’s nail dug deeper, slicing a small cut into her flesh, and Jack watched her tongue slip out to lick the fresh wound.  Lick along his thumb hungrily. 

 _“My sweet Anessa…so lost to that feeling,”_ he said, his other hand gracing her bare neck.  The blood that stained her was mostly gone now, but the state she was in still had a tight hold to her.  This was the same thing that would happen to Jack, though he was far more used to it than she was.  It was like becoming someone else.  It was becoming purely primal.  Jack embraced this, an acceptance that Anessa was far from having.  Now, that starvation forced her to be lost in i.  She was not entirely herself at all.  For all Jack knew, she most likely didn’t notice what was happening.

That didn’t mean he couldn't enjoy it.

Jack felt his hand venture lower, felt the softness of her bare breasts as wet clothes clung against them.  Felt his finger digging into her mouth and pressing firmly against her tongue.  Anessa’s body was growing hot, and that connection they had made Jack aware of it in a whole new level.  She was aroused, sucking his dirty fingers and pressing against his touch.  But her body became lax.  Muscles relaxed, and soon she began to grow limp.    

 _Dammit… **no** , _Jack reels himself back, her body arching towards him. 

It wasn’t the time.  Her body smelt of eager sex, and if Jack wasn’t careful he was going to tear her apart from the sheer want.  Besides, she wasn’t even all there.  Anessa was very weak, and on the verge of falling asleep.  She wouldn’t understand what was happening.  Not that it mattered.  As he said before, he was willing to mate her simply because that’s the nature of things.  Something about it didn’t sit well with him, though.  He wanted her to fully be there.  As much as he hated the thought of giving in to such meaningless _wants,_ he did want something from it. 

Jack would much rather her be awake for it.

Once Anessa was cleaned up, he stripped her of her clothes and took her to her bed.  He would let her sleep.  Until then, he’d finish the meat and clean the rooms of the cadavers.       


	13. Marking His Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa misses work. Feeling overwhelmed by Jack's intimidating presence, she agrees to go out for dinner with Dylan. This doesn't sit well with Jack, and against his pride he makes it painfully aware to Anessa that she is off limits to other men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always takes me a while to get to the actual romance portion of my romance stories. Stupid, huh? I'm trying to get better at that. Sexual content ahoy. Be aware if you dislike smut! Plz and tank u.

 

 _“My hands?”_ she heard that voice say.  _“What’s happening to my hands?!”_

There was so much fear that laced it.  The grey skin overwhelmed, and Anessa felt the scratching of nails against the palm of her hands.  Only it wasn’t quite her hands—it was his.  She wanted to know who it was she in.  Whose eyes she was seeing through.  _“Oh God…someone stop this!”_

When Anessa woke up, she felt the softness of her sheets around her body.  There were no clothes on her.  Anesssa thought hard, but she could barely recollect what happened.  Bones and flesh flashed like a fractured VHS.  Bart…she remembered eating Bart.  “Oh shit,” a gag squeezes her gut.  She was going to vomit. 

 _No, calm down,_ a hand clamps around her throat, silencing the panic.  She had to put clothes on, and she had to find Jack. 

_Jack._

She remembered him carrying her up the stairs, and…then she drew a blank.  Slowly she assesses her fingers.  There was no blood.  Though, she could make out some pink stains encrusted beneath her nails.  Anessa recognized the time—8 AM.  She was very late for work.  “Shit!”  Legs sprung her from the mattress, and just then she realized the new-found energy. 

It was exhilarating.  She never felt so awake.  Her phone had a few missed calls along with some unread messages.

_Ness, where you at?  Everything alright?_

_Do you need me to come over?_

_Answer your phone Anessa.  Mitch just blew a gasket._

_Call me when you can._

She clicks the redial button and slips on her button on, not even bothering with a bra.  The buttons were done unevenly, and right now she was sprinting down the stairs with a pair of pants in hand.  Dylan answers.

_“Hey!  Shit I’ve been worried sick.”_

“Shit—I am soooo sorry, I’m coming now.”

_“No, it’s fine—Mitch got you covered.  He’s your fill in today.”_

Anessa stops just as she reaches the final step.  “…oh…dammit,” she bites her finger.  “Really?”

_“Yeah, I told him you weren’t looking too good yesterday.  It’s no hard feelings.  You should rest.  Want to go out to Stacey’s after I get out?  My treat.”_

The air was cold—Jack must have turned off the heater.  It didn’t bring Anessa any discomfort.  Rolling her lips together she stutters with her words.  “Uh.  Sure,” she says, looking up to notice that looming body down the corridor.  Jack was standing still, facing to the side, but his gaze zoned in on her form.  Feeling her stomach twist at the sight, she clenches her jaw.  Anessa didn’t even notice him there.

_“Cool, I’ll pick you up.”_

If Dylan came by, then Jack…

…Jack would kill him.

The monster’s fingers twitched.  As if he heard that thought clear as day.  He most likely did.  Shaking her head, she glances outside the window.  No snow today.  “No!” she forces a chuckle, praying it sounded convincing.  “Are you kidding me?  I got a car.  Let me meet you there.”

_“Awe, why won’t you let me be a gent?  I was going to close the door for you and everything.”_

Jack was staring, waiting, testing.  Anessa gulps, her free hand clenching hard on her pants.  “You can hold the door for me at Stacey’s.  I gotta go prince charming, I’ll meet you there at 6.”

_“Copy that.”_

Anessa ends the call shortly after.  The air felt heavy.  Terribleness lingered there in her house, and she noticed the bloody stain on her white living room carpet.  It left a sour taste in her mouth, and if it weren’t for Jack standing there she would have started to cry.  Brown eyes dared to glance over at him.  He hadn’t really moved, but he looked like she interrupted him from something.  The steady breathing that pounded against the other end of his disguise made him sound like a gas-masked wearing maniac. 

He looked lower, and Anessa almost forgot that she was practically naked.  She fumbles with her pants, pulling them up before buttoning herself. 

 _Bastard,_ she thought, but Jack didn’t seem to care about her.  Without a word he turns his stone gaze back towards the wall to study a picture.  It was an old one.  In it, Anessa was just a child.  It was strange how humans could grow like that.  A small, innocent, featureless child turned into the 27 year-old-woman to his right in only a few short years.  Still, having photos, memories like this, were trivial for him.  What was the point in remembering the times of early stages?  Times when one was pathetic and weak? 

He noticed an older man in the photograph; a man that was in many photographs throughout the house.  Jack wondered _where_ he was exactly.  Anessa was by his side now, much to his surprise, though he didn’t quite show it.  Without paying much mind to her, he began assessing the other photos of unfamiliar faces.  There was an unpleasant scent in the air—dirt and mud and old, rotting flesh.  Crunching her nose together, it didn’t take her long to realize that it was him.  That scent was what made her house reek of death for the past month plus some more.  Though she didn’t mind the smell of sweat, she did _hate_ the smell of decay.  Anessa crossed her arms, her distance from him far enough so that she didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“Please take a bath.”

What a random statement.  Jack’s head slowly turns to her like a creature from a horror movie.  It was a creepy sight.  The way the morning light casted behind him, shadowing out his entire mask.  She could still make out the glistening blackness beneath those gaping holes.  It was all so unpleasant, but Anessa was desperate.  Desperate to make that stench go away.  She hoped it wasn’t his natural smell—that it was just the fact that he never really takes baths.  Not once did she see him even wash his hands. 

_“What?”_

Perplexed, he turned to face her fully now.  If Anessa had to look up at him any further she swore her head would fall off.  He was so tall, so ominous.  “…you smell terrible,” she was frank, because she was afraid.  But Anessa didn’t dare budge from her spot, nor did she cower from him.  She realized long ago that if she had a plan to stick to it, because dipping out only ever made matters worse. 

It’s not like any of this could get much worse anyway.

“You set rules down on me, now I’m placing some on you.  You’re here without my choice, but I’m tired of that rotten smell.”

Anessa glares, her voice firm yet shaking.  “So, I’m telling you to take a shower.”  Jack’s silence dissipated as he growls.  The noise was enough to startle her cats into hiding, enough to make the palms of her hands sweat.  But that anger coursing through him was coursing through her, too.  Fueling her further, she snaps at him.  “I haven’t forgotten that you’re more than capable of killing me.  You’ve said it yourself—you’re the world’s greatest predator.  But even **animals** groom themselves.  If you refuse to take a fucking shower, then it just proves that you’re lesser than dirt.”

 That struck a nerve with him.  The anger in him transformed into rage.  It was so intense that Anessa felt the urge to run, but that didn’t happen.  Living under Jack like a puppet made her more daring, careless even.  She didn’t care if this got her killed.  At this point, there wasn’t much to lose.  Dying was the best possible scenario.  Jack lashes out, his arm planting a deep cut into the drywall, but to her surprise he didn’t strike her. 

Somehow, she _knew_ he wouldn’t.  It must have been that connection they had.  

There was a glare war happening between them, and as the seconds in the clock ticked by, she felt the volcanic anger subsiding.  _Slowly_.  Jack scowls something under his breath, snaking past her and up the stairs.

 _Holy shit, that worked,_ her mouth was agape. 

She supposed it would be best to carry on with the rest of her plan.  For the first time in a while, Anessa opens her father’s door.  The room was lost in time, on pause from many years ago.  Her mother died when she was litter, and her father followed suite after the winter cold stole him from her.  Digging in his drawers, she found a pair of cloth pants that he never wore.  The tag still hung from it.  They were a dark grey, almost pure black, and had orange draw strings at the front.  Figuring the sweats would fit him, she stands before getting a plain white tee and exiting the room.  The bathroom door was ajar, and the water wasn’t running.  She barges in with clothes in hand, assuming he hadn’t started yet, but she caught sight of him undressing. 

Jack’s face was visible, his mask placed in the sink.  Hips were arched forward as he pulled his hoodie off halfway, exposing his torso.  Anessa saw the way his back curved, the way muscles lined his abdomen.  Rippled and taut, she was stunned at how toned he was.  How fit this weird mistake of a being could get.  Like an animal caught off guard he growls, and Anessa drops the spare clothes on the ground before slamming the door shut.  She could hear him removing the rest of his clothes now.  Heart raced like a hummingbird, her hands pressing down on her ears.  Anessa walked down her flight of stairs to sit on the bottom most step.  She caught sight of something in the living room.  The blood stain was obscure in the pristine space.  A blotch of depravity in an otherwise cozy room.  It was like looking at Jack in the middle of a snowy field. 

Jack’s fit physique wasn’t much of a surprise.  At least it shouldn’t be.  He lived in the forest, ate only meat, and his metabolism was incredibly fast.  He was a savage—a monster that hunted down the most difficult prey by far.  Humans.  In yet the sheer thought of his build caught her by surprise.  Jack’s body was taut and lean, she already could tell from his neck and arms alone, but _seeing_ it.  The fact that it made her feel _something_ disgusted her. 

Anessa rubs the goosebumps from her arms furiously as she waited for him to finish.  It was a quick bath, because by eight minutes the bathroom door was already swinging open.  That rubbing sped up, anxiety building in her gut.  Any harder, and she’d peel her skin off.  At the stop of the stairs he stopped to glower down at her.  Jack wore no shirt, but he was at least wearing her father’s sweat pants.  They hung low along his hips, and she wondered if he knew how the draw strings worked.  He took a deep breath, his chest heaving up like a hungry lion sighing deeply.  It was intimidating to watch how his muscles flexed, how that grey texture engulfed every inch of his body. 

It was scary— _he_ was scary.  Anessa experienced first hand how powerful he was, but witnessing the primal strength made her want to vomit.  That shameful feeling merged with the anxieties, and when Jack chuckled it caught her off guard. 

“You’re thinking of me, Anessa.”

 _Shit,_ she stood up a little defensively.  Jack descended the stairs, the bare pads of his feet pressing so firmly against the wooden stairs that she could hear the bones in them cracking.  Jack was a little shorter without the boots—about half an inch to be precise.  It wasn’t much of a change, because he was still towering over her.  Feeling small, Anessa attempts to regain some ground.  She places a hand on the railing, griping tightly, refusing to move.  That didn’t scare Jack, only intrigued him.  Only drew him in closer.  He comes to a complete stop, and she could see his face looking down at her with an intensity that made her hairs stand. 

“Do I _smell_ better?” he asks darkly, an enchanting tone to his voice that completely threw her off.  Anessa would have said something, like a sly remark.  Like an insult, or an order for him to go back up and try using soap.  But nothing came out.  Slack jawed, she flinches when his wandering fingers scratched lightly along the side of her neck. 

“…yes…now put on your shirt,” she said bluntly, storming off towards the living room now.  Curious, void eyes watched after her, a nasty grin growing along his lips.  _How fun,_ he slowly stalks after her.  Jack wondered if she remembered the night before.  Remembered the arousal that burned within her core.

Perhaps she did—her body couldn’t lie after all.  The rest of the day she did some chores, and Jack kept sight on her in the darkest corners of her house.  Anessa was a busy woman—she liked to keep her mind distracted.  It was her way of kicking his presence out, of blocking his existence.  Jack found it amusing just as much as he found it idiotic. 

_I’ll pick you up._

Superhuman hearing gave him the ability to overhear their phone call.  It was a man, the same man she worked with.

Jack knew how he looked.

Jack knew how he sounded.

Jack knew how he smelt.

Whenever Anessa returned home from work, that stench was coming off of her like an old trash can.  It didn’t stink in a literal sense.  No, it was a different kind of stench.  The smell of _another_ male—Anessa smelt of her partner.  The thought irked him, though he hated to admit it.  It was his animalistic nature, which only fueled his possessiveness.  Six sharp he was going to meet here somewhere, and Jack peered at the sky outside to see that it was roughly around five in the afternoon.  At least she was smart enough to keep him out of his domain.  He could hear her kick on the shower now, the sound of water flowing through pipes rattling beneath the walls.  She was _cleaning_ herself.  For _him._   For _**Dylan**_.

Knuckles cracked under the immense pressure of his fist, arms shaking with a sudden burst of rage. 

_No._

That side of him was inching its way in, invading his logical thoughts and overwhelming his senses.

**_Yes…oh, yes…_ **

What if they _mated_ tonight?  Jack didn’t know what a _Stacey’s_ was, but he presumed it was a restaurant.  Humans often took each other out on dates—courting.  Something that animals never really did, never needed to do.  A male only ever tended to a female when there was a desire for intimacy—for mating.

**_She’s mine._ **

Jack punching at the table he was sitting near, cracking the surface from a strike that he considered to be lackluster compared to others.  “SHUT UP…” he growled at himself, his voice sharp and fierce.  Shutting up those thoughts were his main priority.  He was an idiot for being so tempted last night—he was an idiot for being so tempted _still_.  There was no question; Anessa was **food.** She wasn’t anything else but prime meat.  A worthless human that he couldn’t wait to rip apart.  Those thoughts he kept repeating to himself, his body shivering with an anger towards himself.  Weak—he was so weak.  Pathetic.  “Bastard…she’s just a lamb for the slaughter!”  Yes, just a lamb, or a doe.  A worthless, meaningless smear of life on the Earth.  Her only purpose was to feed him and nothing more.  _Slaughter_ her.  **_Slaughter her_**. 

The thought of her expression last night flashed like a broken film reel.  The sight of her blood-soaked body, tearing through raw deer like it was the best tasting thing in the God damn world.  The way her form shook from his touch.  The hungry look in her eyes.  The **_smell_** of her. 

Yes, that scent.  Pheromones—sweet and ripe.  She practically _begged_ to be taken.  Jack shook his head, his jaw clenching tightly as his control slipped.  “She’s….mine…!”

**_She’s MINE._ **

Anessa enters her room, shutting the door behind her before removing her towel.  The cold air pierced her nude body, and at that moment she missed getting cold.  Of all things, the cold.  It made her feel human, at least, the memories she had.  Loathing to get out of bed in a winter morning, shivering under the hot water after a long day in the snow.  A freshly cooked meal, piping with steam and ready to be eaten.  Now it was all dull, lifeless, meaningless. 

For fucks sake, she ate her cat. 

Rubbing her moist palms over her face, she struggles to shake the thought from her head.  Anessa was about to dig into her closet, but a feeling pulled at her chest. 

_Jack…_

She felt him coming—felt something burning inside of him.  Anessa hurries to cover herself with her towel again, eyes wide at glued to her door.  Heavy steps were approaching, growing louder as more time passes.  Soon her door tore open, and she stood there shielded only by her towel.  Arms squeezed around her body, eyes locking on to the malicious expression on his cringed face.  Anessa breathes, quickly, her heart racing faster and faster. 

“…what are you going to do?” she sounded scared, and she hated that.  But shit, he was just standing there with a burning gaze.  When Jack began stomping towards her, she felt a wild aura seeping from him.  Strong hands wrapped tightly around her arms, forcing her down to the ground.  With a scowl, Anessa screams at the sudden vicious act.  “No!  No, stop!”  Jack’s nails did easy work in tearing away the towel.  The exposure, the vulnerability, it made her panic in a new sort of way.  Fear laced her every inch, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.  She felt like Jack was about to kill her, but his rough touches weren’t digging into her flesh.  Weren’t tearing at her tendons and burying into her gut.  Jack was breathing heavily, like a dog in heat, his hands grabbing tightly around her torso. 

“No, get off me!” 

Thumbs dug into her bare breasts, and though she struggled against him couldn’t help but freeze when he presses up against her.  Jack was sweating, his body shivering from her touch.  His chest was firm, skin burning up against hers.  The motion Jack made caught her off guard, sent her mind in a fritz.  And as Jack began to rub against her, his hips grinding into hers in a slow yet fierce motion, she couldn’t really think of what to do.

Her mind drew blanks.

 _What are you doing…,_ she thought, knowing very well that he could hear her, but still she earned no response.  Jack purred, his tongue slipping out to lap along her neck.  The hot muscle dragged upward, leaving behind a trail of spit that remained warm on her hot skin.  Anessa felt Jack’s tongue tickle at the lobe of her ear, felt the pleasurable groan that rolling from his lips.  A sharp breath flew into her lungs when his nails dug into her flesh just a tad bit, nipping at the skin shallow enough to draw only minimal blood.  Panic was tearing away her chest, blasting her mind with loads of adrenaline.  This was happening—Jack was aroused, and he was taking advantage of her.  “You bastard…stop it!” she dug her fingers into his back, attempting to bring him pain, but the laugh that came from him stirred her.  It was so dark and menacing that it drew tears from her eyes. 

A hand took swift hold of her wrists, hoisting them high above her head.  Anessa wore no clothing.  The way he stared at her, presented like a gift or hard-earned prize, made her feel exposed.  It tainted her.  _He_ was _tainting_ her, and she only just now noticed the hardness between his bulging thighs.  The feeling of his growing erection beneath the sweats overpowered her groin, a hard rod that beats as if it had its own heart.  A hot flash came, and though she hated it, she felt arousal pooling in the pit of her gut.  **_“That man,”_** his voice sounded sadistic again.  It was that side of him—that side that he’d lose himself to.  She was aware of it, because of how he’d change.  Jack was usually quiet and distant, but when that side of him awoken, it was the opposite.  It was demanding, overbearing, and this was perhaps only her fifth or so time experiencing it.  **_“He can’t have you.”_** Fingers wrapped around her neck, tightening ever so slightly to cut off her breathing to a minimum.  Anessa gasps, her nails raking at the carpet beneath her.  Back arched, body tensed, and she pressed her bare breasts against his firm chest in an attempt to shove him off.  She wasn’t nearly as strong as she needed to be.  It only made that sickening grin of hip stretch so far, she swore his lips were going to tear.  Sharp teeth clicked, black fluid dripping from his sockets onto her bare chest.  It burnt in more ways  than one, and her face stretched with disgust and horror. 

It took Anessa a while to understand who he was even talking about.  “…He’s…just my…partner!”

But Jack was rubbing against her again, his growing erection practically piercing through the thin cloth that separated him from her entrance.  The act sent jolts of feelings through her core, made her lips curl into a scowl as she screamed like that fighter she was.  **_“I smelt him off you, Anessa.  Humans may be blind to their emotions, but I’m not.  His scent stinks of desire.  He wants to have you as his own, but he can’t.  Because you’re MINE.”_** Hearing that did something to her.  Made her furious, made her terrified.  Yet, it also turned her on when he pressed against her neck, when he grinded his erection mindlessly into her, when he so greatly tried to enforce that she was _his._ Jack felt her heat press against his naval, just along his belly button when he adjusted himself to gaze down at her.  Along his stomach in the strange, twisted position he had them in.  A wetness was smearing against him, her body shivering with embarrassment.  The sight of it, the _feeling_.  It was so gratifying, that he couldn’t help but let his long tongue seep out so lick bone shattering teeth.  **_“Oh, Anessa, you’re so aroused.”_**

_No, I’m not._

She wasn’t—she was scared.  She was so fucking scared.  Right now, she felt like she was going to die.  She couldn’t control her body, she couldn’t.  Not when she was conjoined with him mentally, not when his arousal became her own.  But Jack placed a burning palm along her stomach, sliding his touch down towards the tuft of soft pubic hair that tangled with his own unkept ones.  **_“You’re in heat.”_**

“Idiot!” she curses him, the rage in her eyes showing through the bursting vessels.  “I’m not!  **I’m not!**   I’m no animal—I’m a human being!  Let me go!” she thrashes, legs curling up.  Pressing her knees on his stomach, she wells up enough force to almost raise him off the ground.  Jack cackles insanely, his muscles flexing, and just when Anessa swore she was about to launch him off of her, he was coming back down like an unstoppable force.  Her head rears back, Anessa screams with such frustration.  Such anguish.  It was delicious to watch the way her face burned up, the way her perky breasts bounced as she trashed.  Power hungry Jack enjoyed seeing her suffer like this, enjoying feeling her strength which was a surprising amount.  “GET OFF OF ME!  **I’LL KILL YOU!** ” 

There was no control, only chaos.  It worked her up, made her blood boil.  Anessa should be afraid, but as strange as it sounded she wasn’t as frightened as she’d hoped for. 

Was it because she already lost the fight before it started? 

Or was it because this all only furthered pushed her towards an intense sexual frustration?

The neurons in her brain were firing at hyper speed, yet her body didn't muster up enough strength to do anything but jerk and bark like an enraged animal.  The amount of anger that coursed from her was sparking in the air, her veins noticeably beating beneath her paling skin.  Teeth clamped down, snapping when she though his face was close enough to bite. 

Jack was just smiling.

And he _tilts_ his head. 

**_I hate him!  I HATE HIM!_ **

A finger slips between the folds of her vagina.  A single calloused digit, rubbing at her sensitive tissues.  All that anger came crashing down suddenly, too quickly for her to comprehend just what was happening.  It struck her like lightning, the feeling that made her legs quiver.  Anessa gasps shakily, her watery eyes widening.  Jack was touching her down there, massaging the flesh between his spiked fingers, and the disgusting act earned him a weak whimper. 

Though he seemed eager, Jack never touched a woman before.  The feeling of sloppy moisture and arousal should have disgusted him.  He only ever liked the sticky texture of blood and nothing more.  But when he felt how wet she was, how soft the flesh of her flower felt as it seemingly embraced his knuckles, made his body shiver.  It felt… _good._ Too good, in fact.  Pressing a finger in further, she didn't dare move.  Anessa wasn’t afraid of most pain, but the though of his claws slipping…

“Please…stop,” that fearsome fire was out in a flash.  Her broken panting picked up, and Jack could hear her heart racing in a new type of way.

Then there was that _smell._

Oh, she was giving it off so obviously.  The sweet scent of heat.  Absentmindedly he licked his lips, shark teeth clanking down around her shoulder.  He barely bit down before stopping his jaw, tongue lapping at the seat that beaded from her neck.  It was salty with a feminine tang to it.  The taste of it, mixed with the smell of her breasts and the sounds she was making, caused Jack’s back to curl hungrily.  A finger flicks along the most sensitive bead hidden just below her tuft of hair, and Anessa sobs when a moan slips through her curled lips. 

There was a purring sound emanating from Jack as he humped her, his own hand caught between the shameless act.  Like he was content—like he was genuinely _enjoying_ this.

 ** _“This feeling,”_** the monster curses, releasing his’s hold on her shoulder to rake his tongue along her bottom lip.  The numbing hold along her wrists disappears, his fingers instead digging into her hair to pull along the roots.  Anessa’s head arches up towards him, her tearful gaze both pleading and defeated.  The shape of her lips, the light gasps she was making, showed that the feelings she was receiving felt _good_.  Jack’s smirk was gone, being too lost in the sensations that burned his member.  Heavy breaths filled the cold air, his other hand leaving her warm vagina to grasp hard onto the flesh of her hip.  Jack pushes him further into her, and she could feel the cloth of the pants slipping inside. 

He was big—she could tell he was.  It hurt.  It was wide and stretched her open, and the fabric only added to the painful friction.  But just as painful as it was, it was also sweet.  A tasty invasion between her sex-slicked thighs that broke any sense of pride in her mind.  Shit—she was losing again.  Losing herself in whatever madness that fueled his monstrous brain.  “Don’t…it hurts…!” she gasps. 

Eager for more, Jack’s shoulders rolled to the point of cracking.  The feeling was too good—it was addictive.  He wanted to mate with her senselessly, and whenever he wanted.  The fact that she was still holding on to some small shred of humanity made it all the more fun, but entertainment aside…it would be a shame to have to fight her for a chance to have sex whenever he wanted it. 

The sound of her cellphone ringing in the bathroom was enough to force Jack to a complete stop.  At first, he was irked by it, but a thought spawned in his mind.  That was most likely her _partner._ It had almost been an hour now, and he was most likely on his way to where ever it was they were meeting.  Leaning up, Jack assessed the damage he made to her.  Anessa shivered beneath him like a leaf, his sweat coating her body like a thin like of clear plastic that shined in the dim lighting.  Chest heaved up and down, her stomach twisting as her hips buckled against him.  He was a fraction of a way in, the head of his dick pushed inside, surrounded by clothing.  He could feel her body’s wet secretions moistening up the fabric, seeping through shamefully before coating his bare skin underneath.  But that look on her face—afraid and just about to snap.  Total defeat.  There was an eagerness in her.  A want to move along on her own, to lower herself further along his clothed shaft.  But, as he expected, she didn’t.

_Perfect._

Jack lowers himself now, his face a mere inch from hers, and as he spoke, he spoke with a malice that told her terrible odes.  Stories of how cruel he was.  Stories of how terrible of a monster she was facing.  **_“When it's time…you will go to him.”_** It made her skin tingle, her nipples pucker in a cold shiver.  Tears streamed from her widened eyes, and she didn’t dare to blink. 

**_“But remember this.  If he touches you, I will slaughter him, and then I will make you eat his corpse.”_ **

A tongue laps along her lips, tasting the drool that slipped from between them when he was busy forcing his way into her.  Jack raises himself, his hips giving one final pump into her before he stands.  Limps contorted disturbingly, his body cracking before he stalks out of the room rather abruptly. 

Anessa eyes squeezed shut finally, her fears falling along the sides of her cheeks.  Biting down hard on her lips, she struggles to sit up.  “What…”

What was that all about? 

There were many more questions going on in her mind, no doubt.  But the phone rang again, and she stared at the exit for a moment in fear.  Jack—she didn’t sense him anymore.  He retreated down the stairs, to somewhere in the house, leaving her to her devices…

_Dylan…that must be him…!_

Yes—he was coming.  She had a chance to get away from this nightmare, to find some solace for her deranged mind.  Legs worked like jelly, a piercing fielding inside of her.  Jack went inside, but barely, in yet she already felt sore.  His size didn’t impress her—it fucking scared her.  The thought of him going in mercilessly and without remorse.  It made her want to vomit.  But her body shook still, the high of arousal forcing her to launch a fist into the already broken glass of her bathroom mirror.  It shattered some more, her eyes welling up again with salty tears, and she could barely make out the screen of her phone.

Reluctantly she answers, just in time before the call was dropped.  “H-Hey…”

_“Hey!  I’m almost there, hope you’re on the way.  I know you gals take forever.”_

Shit—she could barely stand.  Legs quivered beneath her weight, and when she saw her face in the shattered shards of mirror stacked in the sink, she noticed her blood shots eyes and pasty skin.  Sticky, she felt stick from all the sweat Jack secreted off on her, but she didn’t even have time for another shower.  “Uhm…yeah!  I just…gotta get dressed really quick.”

_“You mean you didn't even leave yet?”_

Shit.  Shit, shit, shit!  Fucking Jack did this.  Arms tensed, practically shaking under the stress she was in.  She had to think of a reasonable excuse, and fast.  “My cats got out.  They’re acting all loopy…from the wind outside.  It’s making my windows rattle.  I had to go get them.”

_“Awe, poor little fur balls.  Alright then, I’ll text you when I get there.  Don't keep a man waiting!”_

The phone call ends fast, and Anessa was left with herself once again.  Shaky hands reached up to rub her face.  There wasn’t much time to spare, so she just put on some casual clothes before cautiously descending the stairs.  The scent of him was stinking off her, and it was mind numbing too.  It made her body shake, and her heart race.  It…it made her _think_ about him a little too much.  Jack was standing just outside the hall, a little out of sight.  Anessa didn’t notice he was there, she couldn’t unless she stood by the front door.  That looming tower watched her unyieldingly. 

Intently.

“…” without another word she quickly exited her home, a little too eager, and it made Jack smile.

That date of hers shouldn't last long.


	14. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa leaves her home in order to distance herself from Jack. She spends some time with Dylan at a local dinner. As it brings her memories of her normal life prior to meeting Jack, she discovered more drastic problems that she must face in order to appear normal to the public eye.

 

“It’s been a while, ya’ll!  What’ll ya have, Dylan?”

The diner was well lit in yet dim at the same time.  The edges of Anessa’s vision was fogged, eyes struggling to focus on the menu in front of her.  

“I’ll have a fried bologna sandwich as always!”

“Alrighty then, Ranger, and what about you Ranger Milch?”

Anessa barely noticed the woman talking to her.  Tired eyes rolled up, staring.  It was Grace—a 65-year-old with white hair and an ironed outfit to match.  Her skin was sagged and aged, but beneath her neck there was more lively color.  Pink flesh and a beating vein beneath draped, leathery skin. 

“Baby cakes?”

She always called Anessa that.  Like a snap of her fingers, Anessa came to.  “I’ll have the same, Grace,” she smiled, but it was smaller than her usual.  Smaller, and void of much life. 

“Alrighty then,” the older lady smiled, but reluctantly walks away. 

Anessa was left with Dylan, who stared at her with a huge about of concern. 

“You okay, Ness?”

All she could think about was _Jack._ His touched burned holes into her.  The coolness that she clung onto—the coolness that kept her calm and collected—was seeping through those gaping craters in her psyche.  Anessa looked void of life.  Void of emotion.  Her eyes were glossed over like a doll’s, and when she rolled her irises up to glance at her friend she met with a worried expression. 

“Jesus Christ.  You look like shit.”

“…yeah?” she sips at her water, a small yet genuine smirk playing her dry lips.  “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.  Didn’t you sleep in?  You look like you haven’t closed your eyes in days.  You didn’t look like that yesterday.  What happened?” Dylan was chewing on something.  Probably the bread that Grace brought over.  Anessa could only provide to him a shrug, “I did.  It’s probably why I feel like shit.  I hate waking up late.”

That excuse seemed good enough, because Dylan nodded in response.  He was an easy guy to convince, and seeing as to how he didn’t like prying at a girl, he must have assumed it was a womanly sort of thing.  Like maybe she had her period, or maybe her hormones were on the frits.

They probably were.

The quivering feeling between her thighs never ceased since she departed from her home.  A clenching urge was inside of her—an urge to be filled and to be given release.  Anessa was horny, but the melancholy aura draped over her made it look like she was far from wanting to get off.  Dylan was babbling now, talking about work.  How Mitch had to chase a homeless guy across the entire park, and how hilarious it was.  It all fell on deaf ears, but Anessa didn’t yield eye contact.  She wanted to look attentive, in control, even though she wasn’t. 

**_If he touches you, I will kill him.  And I will make you eat his corpse._ **

“I can’t believe Mitch can still run…” Anessa managed to throw in a comment here or there.  Unable to ignore the lingering feeling inside of her, she conceals her discomfort with exhaustion.  Dylan laughs loud like a bear before he keeps on with his stories.

_My body feels hot…_

Subconsciously she snaked her arms around her torso, her body shivering from the terrible sensation.  Hot—she felt incredibly hot.  Like how she did when he touched her.  When he was clasping on her bare skin and raking his tongue along her thin neck.  Thighs quivered, the area between them burning with an aching need to be touched.  Anessa was aroused still, and that feeling never yielded even after she met up with Dylan.  His voice was but a whisper in her mind, mockingly drawing her into her thoughts. 

**_Anessa…_ **

_Shut up,_ she thought, her eyes not once steering from Dylan’s bright face.  Jack’s voice was like a dense fog.  Black smog swirling inside of her, subtly making jabs that tore down any sense of sanity she had.  Being in public was almost impossible right now.  At any moment she could break down, or snap, or worse.  She just might start screaming.

**_Are you enjoying your time?_ **

There was a sincerity in his voice.  A curiosity that he wanted to subdue, and it all depended on what she’d say next. 

No.  No, she wasn’t enjoying her time. 

Anessa didn’t even need to think it, because Jack already _felt_ the answer.  A dark chuckle rolled in her thoughts, as if he were laughing behind her.  But when she slowly glanced around to see, there was nobody out of the ordinary.  Just the entrance, and a few other families eating dinner. 

“What’s up?” Dylan asked, obviously noticing she was very distracted. 

“…nothing, I just thought I heard someone say my name,” Anessa smirks, shaking her head before burying her fingers into her unkept locks.  There was some sleep sand in her eyes, so she rubbed at them.  “I’m so tired…I’m sorry.  I must seem boring.”

“Hey survivor, relax!  I don’t mind.  I’m happy you actually came, but now I feel bad.  You probably should have stayed home and rest.”

Dylan didn’t understand that she didn’t even want to go back home.  Home was hell—a prison.  And the warden was a demon incarnate, waiting for her to come home.

Eagerly waiting to touch her again.

“It’s fine.  I needed this,” she laughed, fighting the urge to curl up in a ball.  Her body was responding in such a way that she felt like she was still being touched.  Thoughts would have lingered into darker places, but her senses were flooded with a stench.  Two hot plates of food were placed before them, steam rising from the freshly fried meat and tatter tots.  Dylan’s hands smacked together, a child-like smile on his face, “Awe man I’ve been cravin’ this!”

“Eat up you two!  Need anything else?”

She could hear her own heart pounding inside of her chest.  Stomach twisted in knots, her arms growing heavy.  It smelt _terrible._ “N-No…this is great,” Anessa forced a smile, and when Grace left them alone she could only watch as Dylan dug in.

Gums smacked together, greasy bites and popping jaw echoing in the chambers of her ears.  Anessa remembered fried bologna being good.  The sight of it wasn’t different, but the smell.  Rancid, pickled almost, and when she reached to touch it she felt no eagerness to eat anymore.  Not even a little.

_What’s wrong with me…?_

Anessa picks up the sandwich and hesitantly takes a bite.

_Why does this smell so bad…!_

The meat came in contact with her tongue, and almost instantly she wanted to spit it out.  But there were people around, and Dylan would have seen it.  So, she swallowed whole without even chewing. 

The taste.  It was so putrid. 

And when she swallowed it left a burning, hot trail.  Her gut twisted when it settled into her stomach, and all too quickly she wanted to heave it out.  A hand presses over her lips, tearing welling up in her eyes, “Sorry, it’s so hot…!” she made an excuse before reaching for the soda besides her.  Anessa takes a sip of her coke.  A nasty flavor washed through her tongue, all the way down her esophagus, and it made everything ten times worse.

_I can’t…it all tastes so bad…!_

A cough erupts from her throat, Dylan seizing his actions to stare at her a little worried.  “Hey, you choking?”

“No…!  I’m fine…” her hands were shaking, just a little, but somehow her friend didn’t notice.  He returned to his meal, and Anessa didn’t have much of a choice.

She dragged herself through the torture and finished it all.

“That was good, huh?” Dylan held the diner door open for her, and she sluggishly made her way out.  Darkness encircled her eyes, her shoulders squeezed inward as a searing pain washed over her.  Eating made her terribly weak. 

An arm snakes around her shoulders, reeling her in.  She was tucked perfectly beneath his underarm, a charming smile on his face, “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.  I was hoping you could come over my place for a bit…maybe hang out and watch some movies.  But…maybe another time.”

_His place?  He never asked me that before…_

There was a look on Dylan’s face that she had never seen him play.  Something subtle yet extremely noticeable.  Like he had something on his mind.  Jack’s words were playing in her head at a painful repeat.  It was something she didn’t want to believe at the time, but Dylan was never this physical with her.  Never looked at her in an almost longing, concerned sort of way.  Maybe…Jack was right.

Dylan was _interested_ in her. 

The taller man was about to pull her into a hug, but something stopped him.  His nose cringed, body growing stiff as he halts all movements.  Anessa glances up at him, and through all her pain she somehow managed to look perplexed.  “…something wrong?” she asked, her voice but a weak grunt.  His fingers came up to his face, rubbing along his jawline as he gave Anessa space.  

“Yeah uhh…you just, smell funny,” he commented. 

Anessa stiffened, feeling a bit self-conscious albeit the pain that swelled in her gut, “I took a shower though.”

“No—not like stink funny but…I don’t know.  You good to drive home?” he coughs, and then he backed away _again_.

“…yeah.”

Dylan was always up on her space, but now he wasn’t.  Now he was distant as if he had just met her.  He was inching to his car now, rubbing the back of his neck like he had second thoughts.  Like he had made a big mistake.  Lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze suspicious as the man begins to walk away, “Dylan…?

“I’ll…see you later, okay Loch Ness?”  Anessa watched him enter his care, his hand waving her off as he drove into the night. 

Then she was alone.

“…”

On her way home, she had to make a quick stop to vomit. 

Hot stomach acids burned her throat, the terrible mixture of diner dinner sloshing onto the pavement.  Some of it wasn’t even chewed, Anessa having to swallow bits whole in the hopes of avoiding the terrible flavor.  Dog shit—it all tasted like dog shit.  Cans of cat food tasted better.  Hell, even her vomit tasted better.  “ _What’s wrong with me_ ,” she whimpers between hurls, the urge to cry incredibly strong.  But she couldn’t, she could only expunge everything that she ate within the last hour or two.  “ **Shit…** this hurts!”

Ten minutes of dry heaving later, the painful feeling was relieved, leaving her snot-nosed with runny eyes.  The back of her hand wipes along her face.  Lungs heaved for air, and weakly she made her way back into the car to drive again.  Quickened breaths fogged up her windshield, but she didn’t even bother to turn on the ac.  Anessa was tired, and sweaty.

And hungry.

_No.  No, I can eat like a normal person.  I just need to find the right stuff…!_

That’s right.  Maybe she could start light, like a soup or some bread.  Something without much flavor.  Sick-man’s food.  Anessa sniffles, and instantly she catches a whiff of Jack. 

Right there, she gasps. 

_You smell funny._

The thought of Dylan smelling Jack on her crossed her mind.  It didn’t seem plausible.  Yes, Jack…did something terrible to her.  But how would that affect Dylan?  She remembered the monster rambling on, remembered him speaking on how he could smell Dylan’s _stench_ off her. 

Could it be possible that Dylan just had a similar experience?

Anessa ran a hand along her neck, right where Jack bit, and as she drew her digits back she could smell a potent scent.  Musky and familiar, almost primal. 

_I…I smell like Jack._

Hands gripped dangerously tight at the wheel.  He sweated all over her earlier.  That could explain his stink in the cabin of her car.  That could explain why Dylan was so apprehensive around her.  She smelt off.  Not stinky, just off.  But how could any of this make sense?  She was a human… **Dylan** was a human.  Why was any of this possible?  Unless… 

…unless maybe it really was.

Unless Jack knew exactly what he was talking about.

Shamefully she felt a little enticed when she caught that whiff of Jack.  It made her stomach curl, and her thighs press instinctively together.  _Want_ was a terrible feeling.  It left a nasty taste in her mouth that was far worse than any sick up her stomach could throw at her.  Any bile that clung onto her teeth.  Shame tightly gripped around her thin neck like a noose.  She didn’t even know why she went home anymore.  Jack could easily try and find her, but it wasn’t like he could drive a car.  She could disappear for as long as she could manage, at least up until he finally reached her.  But it would give her space.  Yes, he could telepathically threaten her, but it would give her _space._

When she got home it was dark as always.  Not a single light was on, and Jack was nowhere to be seen.  Anessa stood at the entrance, having shut the front door behind her, and she just waited.  **“Jack…!”**

Anger was coursing through her veins, leaving a fiery trail in its wake, but when she saw his twistedly tall form at the top of the stairs just _staring,_ she could sense a fraction of fear bubbling up in her gut.  Anessa shook her head, biting through that fear of him.  He was standing there, menacingly, his strong body casting shadows along the many ridges that lined his abdomen. 

“What…what did you do to me,” she stutters, her body not once ceasing from shaking ever since she left two hours ago.  Jack didn’t say anything, just stared darkly.  There was an ominous cloud in the air, weighing her feet until they anchored her there.  She bit her lip, tears welling up in the corners of her vision.  When Jack’s mouth pulled into a grin she was taken back to that day in the forest.  He was toying with her again.

“You…you bastard…!  What did you put on me?!”

Jack tilts his head, something he always did when she amused him.  It always pissed her off. 

“My scent.”

_Your…scent?_

The muscles in her shoulders relaxed, her body loosening up like gum.  She was right then—he really did mark her.  Like an animal.  “But how could Dylan…”

“He’s a human, isn’t he?” Jack grunts, his body descending the stairs now.  One booming step after another, he was closing in on her, and Anessa couldn’t bring herself to move.  “Humans, though they’re weak, still possess animal instincts.”  Jack was pressed against her now, his bare chest radiating a heat that made her think of a hot oven.  Her body tensed when one of his large hands brushed lightly on her forearm, nails teasingly scratching her sensitive flesh.

“He smelt me off you, and at that moment he knew you were taken.  Subconsciously he understood that if he marked you, he would have to face me,” a lock of her messy hair twirled around his finger, and he graced the softness of it with a dark delight.  “I’m far more powerful than him.  He could tell by my scent.  The men around you will be fearful of you, because they know the fate of their actions.”

It was like a horror movie, she thought.  It was preposterous, in yet it answered all the questions she had.  Anessa was staring into the void of his sockets, watching the dark fluid staining his rigid features again.  Speechlessness cursed her, stole away her voice, and all she could do was stand there in disbelief as Jack graced her features with a feathery lightness. 

It was gentle, but just as possessive as his vicious touches from before. 

“Did you think of me Anessa?”

A gasp flew from her lungs, Jack chuckling at the tension that took hold of her muscles. 

She wanted to say no, but he’d know she was lying. 

“…why me,” she whimpers, Jack’s face contorting into confusion.  Her foggy eyes rolled up to look at him, her face flushed.  “Why did you want me of all people?  Aren’t I just some stupid human?!”

Jack’s expression twisted to something deadly for a moment.  Pure anger.  The nerve of her speaking up to him made him irritated.  But he considered her question, and was engulfed with silence. 

“…I’m not sure,” was all he said, his fingers cupping her chin to force her gaze up.  Anessa’s body was limp, and she didn’t fight his gestures.  When he was this close, she could smell the stench of him.  It was powerful yet pleasant.  It made her knees want to buckle and her mouth salivate.  He said he wasn’t sure—that wasn’t reassuring at all.  Much to Anessa’s surprise, they were on the same page.  “I simply,” he trailed off, a finger of his pressing into her mouth.  He felt the hotness of her tongue twirling with his grey digit, the fearful yet erotic look on her face seizing his attention fully.  There was a jerking feeling inside of his gut, a twitch of excitement, but he chose to ignore it this time.  Even with her flushed cheeks and staggering breath, he chose to ignore that need.

“…enjoy your company,” he said calmly, his finger slipping out from between her parted lips. 

Jack doesn’t even give her a second glance before he disappears off into the house.  It was something he did often.  Just like his presence, even his thoughts grew silent.  She was isolated now, and entirely alone.  Anessa stood there for a while, the feeling in her body like a wild flame that she struggled to extinguish. 


	15. Insufficient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa's change in diet doesn't seem enough to satisfy her inhuman hungers. She must go out of her way to keep that evil that Jack so eager awaits to be contained. Stubbornness is her only sense of humanity left.

_“I’ll do anything…please…”_

Fresh red slicked on grey, dirtied hands.  Skin like tar, the nails dug deep into skin before popping the surface, earning a muffled wail. 

_“Oh God…I don’t want to do it…don’t make me…!”_

Anessa heard a man talking, his sobbing painful and low.  Like he had been crying for so long.  Those hands were shaking, quivering with every ragged breath.  Another wail, but this time from him.  A painful, raw scream that sounded almost inhuman.  He didn’t want to do this, she could feel the regret and panic welling up in her chest.  But that ache in his stomach…that grumble. 

_“I’m…so…hungry…”_

The pads of his thumbs pressed shakily against his victim’s throat, eyes tearing up and spread wide with terror.  _“I’m sorry…I’m sorry!  I-I can’t stop…!”_ There was a nasty sound when darkness took over Anessa’s vision.  Gurgling, choking gasps mixed with furious kicks and plants uprooting from the ground. 

There was a content purr between sloppy snaps of flesh, and once that particular snapping sound chimed in her ears she had noticed the struggling cease. 

**_“…I feel better…”_ **

Anessa woke up from her sleep, a dryness bringing great discomfort to her eyes.  Scleras were red with exhaustion.  She could feel the bags forming under her lids, the cold sweat tainting her skin.  Reluctantly and with much discontent, Anessa pulls herself up to a laxed seated position. 

“Jack…” she spoke to herself, and it was the first time she had spoken in a few days.  Brown eyes narrowed in on her alarm clock—4:32 am.  It was usually around the spring when Anessa took paid vacation.  Around this time, she’d go for a long drive and see the country side, visit her mother’s grave, and then use the remainder of the week to go fishing at her father’s favorite lake a few miles north. 

That wasn’t an option anymore.  It was Wednesday, 3 days in, and she hadn’t even left her room since she came home from work.  On occasion the phone would ring, but if it were important they’d contact her cellphone.  She’d only ever go out to bathe or feed her cats and nothing more. 

A grumble pulled at her stomach.

She supposed it was time to eat again—with how efficient this new body was, she rarely ever had to.  But when the time came, she greatly loathed it.  Bones cracked, her joints popping from her lack of motion.  Anessa had slept for such a long time.  She constantly worried that Jack would pop in during her sleep to kill her, but that never came. 

Right now, Jack was either out hunting or asleep somewhere. 

It didn’t take long for Anessa to wonder if those strange visions in her sleep were his memories.  The thought came to her a while back.  That man—that terrified, troubled, tortured man.  Anessa glances at her hands, weak and dry and tired muscles twitched beneath her pale skin. 

If that was Jack…wouldn’t that mean that he used to be… _normal?_

If that were the case…then…Anessa stops her thinking.  No—she had to keep to herself, otherwise he would make her pay.  Anessa forces herself up to perform some daily tasks.

Reaching into the cage she retrieved the animal that waltzed into the trap the night before.  On occasion Jack would bring her meat, but upon her refusal of partaking in it he had brandished her his fangs before promptly stated that he wasn’t doing her anymore favors.  Anessa didn’t know where it came from—didn’t know the source.  The thought of her eating…someone…horrified her.  So, she settled for getting her own food.  The raccoon snarled in her grasp, her grip tight around its throat.  Fresh cuts seeped blood as she struggled to get a proper hold of it. 

“Come on little buddy, I’ll make it quick,” she coaxes it, her fingers wrapping around the scruff of its neck.  For a moment it froze in place, Anessa feeling it was calm enough to lift from the cage.  As she promised, she made it quick.  It hung lifeless in her hands, her separate fingers coated in a thick layer of blood. 

For a long while she stared at her fingers, the digits rubbing in small circles to feel that smooth warmth.  Anessa gulps, her hands shaking now, and she produces a frown.  A shaky sigh escapes between her lips as she sluggishly walks inside.

She was running low on energy, and if she didn’t eat soon then that pain would come back again.  Anessa spent the remainder of her morning prepping the meat. 

Skinned the fur.  Gut the entrails out.  Clean the meat.  Trim the fat.  Rinse out the blood. 

The byproducts were thrown into the trash and instantly sealed, not wanting to leave a nasty odor.  The first time she did this, she tried to cook it.  It didn’t sit well with her, having come back up only moments later.  Anessa stared at the cutting board, the flesh already sliced and ready for the taking.

**_Your body will only get the satisfaction from raw meat._ **

Jack’s voice crept from her memories, smooth as honey but darker than any shadows casted in her gloomy home.  After so many times, she thought she’d be used to this by now.  She wasn’t.  Anessa takes a piece of flesh, slippery and squishy and warm to the touch.  She kneads into it, watching as the capillaries popped beneath the many fibrous layers, and delicately she slips it into her mouth. 

Every time she ate it would leave an invigorating feeling down her throat.  A satisfying, enjoyable, tingly feeling.  It was something she hated, because of how **_good_** it felt. 

Anessa eats another piece. 

Then another.

And another.

At this point, she wasn’t even chewing her meal, feeling that delicious wave after wave overwhelming her senses.  It was addictive, and she faintly remembers feeling it when she was eating that deer all those weeks ago.  The blood, the fresh kill, it was more satisfying than this.  She had cleaned this meat, and with how long it took to prep up it took away the heat that she so greatly craved.  But that humanity in her, that thread of humanity, refused to bite into a fresh kill like that ever again.  So, she settled for this.

Tears brimmed up in her lashes.  Upon her last bite they spilled from her eyes, and she fumbles with wiping them away.  She hated eating. 

She **hated** it, but she **loved** it.

There was still a grumble in her throat as she slid the cutting board into the sink a little roughly.  Leaning against the counter, Anessa gingerly rubs harshly at her eyes, pulling away some lashes.  A shaky sigh escapes her lips, but almost instantly she bit down at them.

That wasn’t nearly enough.

Lately her meals have been feeling less and less satisfying.  It was probably 5:00 am by now, give or take.  She could easily go out for a quick hunt with her gun, but the discharge might alert someone.  The least she needed was to have the cops come over to her house. 

The backdoor slid open, and instantly Anessa’s senses were flooded with the rich stench of death.  Mustering up the courage to glance up she sees Jack.  He stood in the entrance, his body craned to the side slightly as he dug his hands into the front pocket of his jacket.  He was in his usual attire, clothing he only adopted when he was out for a hunt.  Jack was most likely going to change into her father’s sweatpants now, and if he was feeling considerate for her feelings, then also a t-shirt. 

Anessa glares, spotting the blood that tainted the handle to her sliding door now, “Idiot…why don’t you clean your hands before…”

Her voice diminishes into a soft whisper.  Something…there was something in the air.  A salty, musky, tender scent.  Feeling the muscles in her chest clench, Anessa bites down hard on her lip.  Finger curled along the edge of the counter, her eyes watering slightly as a ping pulled painfully deep within her gut.

Jack was covered in blood, and the smell was horrifyingly intoxicating. 

“Fuck,” she seethes, her head hanging low now as she turns away from his prodding gaze.  The tall, looming figure tilts his head in curiosity before stalking slowly towards her.  Each step he made had her heart racing a little faster, had that scent coming off a little stronger.  Placing a hand over her mouth she shivers under her skin. 

Jack’s touch was gracing the space just between her shoulder blades.  A dip that his fingers easily molded into, which he in turn massages ever so slightly.  His touch didn’t go unnoticed, but Anessa was too preoccupied with calming herself.

Hungry…she was feeling hungry still. 

 _Shit,_ she thought, her vision blurry with tears.  But when Jack’s fingers appeared before her, glistening with a red wine color that had already begun to dry along his nailbed, she couldn’t help but twitch.  Anessa swallows hard, concentrating only on the suggestive motions of his digits. 

“Anessa,” he cooed, his back arched forward so he pressed into her perfectly.  With his shoulders overlapping hers he allowed his head to perch along her left shoulder, his free hand kneading light circles into her tense arm as he rubbed the blood between his dark fingers.  Teasingly yet offering. 

“You’re famished.”

Ever since that day, Jack had been more physical with her.  He hadn’t touched her sexually since, but there were little graces here and there.  Little, feathery brushes to her lips, or little words of endearment even. 

_Little doe._

_Sweet Anessa._

**_My_ ** _Anessa._

Her transformation was enchanting, yet he was impatient.  Anessa didn’t want to understand his fondness of her, assuming it was even that.  She wondered if he was just going mad from being cooped up in the same house as her for months.  As if that could be the case—the bastard was already insane to begin with.  Finding solace in her thoughts she had forgotten about the blood coated knuckles until he drew his hand dangerously close to her lips.  Jack felt the way her lungs heaved in breaths, so deep and desperate.  Greedily he pressed himself deeper into her, taking her scent.  The warmth of his body radiated like an oven, Anessa’s skin burning, and she forces her gaze to the side.  “Get that away from me,” she clears her throat, the struggle inside of her evident in her shaken words. 

“You smell…take a shower.”

A dark chuckle tickled the shell of her ear, and she could feel his hot breath burning her neck.  “So forceful,” Jack mocked, his fingers yet yielding from their painful motions.  The touches he was giving her were far from aggressive, but she understood the nature behind it.  Jack was holding himself back from doing something terrible, and she was more intimidated than grateful.  Possessively he purrs against the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

Once in a while he would spoil himself with her presence, much to his discontent.  But it was the hardest to fight temptation when she was so weak and struggling with her humanity.  Hardest when she was on the verge of **_giving in._**

He wanted to see the beauty of that.  The beauty of her **_losing_** to this silly game of hers. 

“Give in.  That garbage isn’t nearly enough for you.”

Blood his musky could only be from one source.  But there was something about it—Anessa knew where it was from, in yet because of that she craved it **_more._**

“Jack…” she said shakily, turning her head to the side.  Her nose brushed against the surface of his grimy mask, her eyes welling with tears as she gave the wall to her left a solemn stare.  “…please, I don’t want it.”

“…”

The monster stares at her for a moment, feeling her hot breath blister the small bit of his skin that was exposed.  When he finally spoke, it was low and hushed, foreboding with each syllable.  

“When the time comes, and you give in to your hunger, it will consume you far worse than how it did before.  You understand this don’t you, Anessa?”

Jack wasn’t trying to watch over her—he didn’t care what would come of it.  It was more so that he understood and desired to make her see the truth.  Anessa wasn’t oblivious, however, but she was desperate. 

Something about the way he said that made her hairs stand with curiosity.  It wasn’t the right time—but it never will be.   

“Jack…can I ask you something.”

“Hn,” he grunts, his breaths quick and muffled.  He actually responded to her—rarely did he do that.  Anessa gulps.

“…you know what I’m going through…don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, though his fingers fell still from their actions.  Jack stood hauntingly still behind her, his only movements being his slow breaths and the rapid pace of his heart.  Daring to glace at his mask she watches the darkness that seeped like fresh tar from behind his mask, staining the length of his neck and beyond. 

“You’ve been through it too…you weren’t always like this,” her clarification earned her no response.  As the silence began to eat away at her cool demeanor, she couldn’t fight the panic that welled up in her chest. 

 _You used to be a human…weren’t you?_ She thought, unable to speak anymore.  She knew he heard it—there was no way he didn’t.  Still, his silence was beyond intimidating, her skin crawling with fear when he did nothing.  His hand was stilled wrapped around her arm, yet he didn’t even squeeze it.  Not threateningly, or reassuringly, or maliciously.  Nothing. 

Finally, after a painfully long pause, Jack stood and detached himself from her.

Anessa didn’t even watch as he left the room, most likely to wash himself and change into cleaner clothing.  It left her with a self-conscious, strange feeling.

_Did I strike a nerve with him?_

Surely not.  For if that was the case he would have threatened her.  Jack usually only ever walked away when he had nothing to say.  When he didn’t want to involve himself any further into the conversation at hand. 

Throughout the day Anessa’s vision began to fade darker, the corners of her sight blurry like a VHS tape again.  “No again,” she mumbles, having nothing on hand to eat at the moment.  Jack was, as always, being distant after her question. 

That darkness was impairing her vision, but by 2:00 something **_else_** was happening.  Anessa places a hand over her gut.  It ached and soured over, hunger creeping in the corners of her psyche, but from there she moved south.  Just above her uterus her hand began to knead.  She seeks comfort, feeling an incredible stiffness in her loins.

What started as an annoying pang of discomfort was evolving into something borderline unbearable.  Sweat was pooling along the crook of her neck, dripping and soaking into her clothing as she lets out an exasperated breath.  Intolerable of the unspoken presence, Anessa seethes out a curse.

“What,” she demanded, her eyes not even bothering to look up at the blue-masked fiend that hid so calmly in the shadows of the hallway.  He had been staring at her since this morning now.  No, for the past few days, and it was beginning to drive her insane.

Jack always stared, but not like this.

It was like he was gravitating towards her.  Every morning for the past week or two she would wake up to him waiting for her down the stairs.  When she came home from work, he was always staring out at her from the window.  He even watched her do chores like the creepy animal that he was, and it was all in his total silence. 

Jack didn’t respond, not that she expected him to.  “Why do you keep staring, it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong,” she gasps, her energy running low.  She hoped that one of her other traps had caught something bigger.  Anessa goes to stand, but the ground beneath her felt wobbly.  She stood still for a moment.  Attempted to regain her composure.  But there was an annoying pain—something that wasn’t hunger. 

There was a whiff in the air—the musky smell that drew a bittersweet sensation from her.  Jack’s stench lingered in the air, his proximity alarmingly close now.  She could barely notice him approaching, he was so quiet.  “How long have you been feeling like this,” he spoke monotonous, his voice still icy like winter. 

Was he…worried? 

No—of course not.  Anessa rose a brow, tensing when he holds out an arm to even her swaying.  The gesture was…considerate of him.  Wiping away the sweat on her cheeks she glues her gaze towards the old blood stain on the carpet of the living room.

“It’s just hunger.  I’m going to take care of it.”

He tilts his head.

“ _Oh…?_ ” 

Definitely he wasn’t worried.  The tone of his voice made her skin crawl.  Jack didn’t seem convinced, but Anessa looked rather lost.  Jack tilts her head up to look at him, and she was apprehensive in doing so.  “Tell me Anessa, where does it hurt?”

She blinks, her eyes clouded over with discomfort.  “It…” she trails off, finding his curiosity extremely suspicious.  Something else was going on—something that he _understood._ The way Jack’s thumb pressed along her chin, delicately and possessively, as he glanced down at her.  Without his mask she could see the way his face softened, but his brows were pulled downward.  Intently. 

“…what are you suggesting, Jack?” she huffs, noticing the way his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down as he swallows.  That grip of his tightened—he was so tense.  When she felt a nail prick her chin she couldn’t fight back the gasp.  If Jack would just think for once, then maybe she’d understand what was going on in his head.  But Jack never really thought much—he only felt.  Yet he was so good at concealing everything from her.  It was frustrating just as much as it was horrifying. 

“You noticed something different about me, haven’t you?” she urges, her eyes bearing weeks’ worth of aggravation and exhaustion in one look.  “Enlighten me.  Why else would you be so _concerned_?”  That last word came out bitterly.

Lips pulled into a sick grin, his sharp teeth glistening in the streaks of sunlight that casted through her blinds.  Something was amusing him, but she wasn’t sure what.  That pain in her gut wasn’t yielding, and as she began to massage her aching muscles it only made his grin grow wider. 

"I'm only looking after my omega, dear Anessa.  Your stubbornness is frustrating yet incredibly entertaining to watch.  Like a rose fighting the inevitable during a drought." 

The rest of his sentence fell on deaf ears.  He called her _omega:_ what the hell did that mean?  Her eyes shined a striking mix of chocolate and honey, the bags beneath them making her lack of rest painfully obvious.  “What are you… ** _shit_** ,” a great pain in her gut interrupts her.  Vertigo licked her ever so slightly as she spreads her stance to catch her balance. 

Oh no—it was coming.  She just knew it.

Shoving past Jack she slips on her boots, earning a curious glance from him. 

Jack scoffs, “Off to hunt more roadkill, are we?”

Anessa throws him a glare, tears threatening to stream out, but she notices Jack clutching his stomach again.  He must have felt her hunger, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing so uncomfortably.  The fact that he was still smiling only made her the more irked.  A foot slams onto the ground, her leg bouncing to adjust her foot deeper into her shoe, and she turns to leave.

“Fool, it won’t satisfy you.”

“That’s my struggle to bare, now shut up and leave me alone.”

A growl emanated from the living room and it made her skin crawl.  Fear licked at her skin, forcing more sweat to form in her already clammy palms.  “Very well.  It’s your call.  But if something tragic were to happen,” his fingers wrapped dangerously tight around her arm.  He jerks her into him, her body pressing against his firm frame.  A burning glare was brandishing her, and Anessa hated herself for shivering at the sight.  That expression of his was twisted, on the verge of going utterly wicked.  As Jack leans in, his words spilled from his stretched lips like the acid that poured from his gouged eyes. 

**“It will be your downfall.  Understand?”**

Their eyes locked, their little staring contest being uninterrupted for a long ten seconds.  Finally, Anessa speaks up.  “ _I’m.  In. **Control**_.”  With a sudden but weak force she pulls her arm from his grasp.  "And I'm not _yours_."  Jack loosens his grip, watching after her as she exits her home.  From the window he observed her form growing distant, the light color of her jeans and white tank top standing out amongst the rich shades of yellow and green that accompanied nature.  Jack, although he hated it, couldn’t help but feel the need to follow her. 

**_Let her learn.  She’s too stubborn to die, anyway._ **

Jack grunts at his thoughts before letting the curtains fall.  In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy by hunting something big for her.  He doubted she’d find anything sufficient. 

**_You’re so weak.  Did you not promise that you wouldn’t help her?_ **

Jack growls, startling her cats from their hiding spots, his nails dragging along the wallpaper as he stalked creepily down the hallway.  He did promise himself to let her suffer, but he was getting fucking **_soft._**

Whatever, he thought.  She was _his_ after all, and a good alpha takes care of his flock, even though it was a bittersweet connection they had.  He was just feeding her, and if he forced her to partake then that meant the pain in his gut would subside. 

Those excuses of his were cute, yet aided in protecting his pride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a late update, but no worries. I've written 3 chapters ahead now! I apologize for such a long period between posts. I usually go quiet when my classes start to try and get into the grove of things. 
> 
> Wow, almost 1000 views! I'm honored!


	16. Main Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months of fighting off the darkness await to consume her, Anessa's grasp on humanity slips as hunger takes its tole.

For the next few hours, Anessa would walk the lengthy roads of the countryside to try and find roadkill.  If something freshly died she would usually smell it in the air.  That didn’t seem to be the case, however.  Old rotting wood and distant creek water left a fresh crisp scent that lingered and nothing more.  It was something that she loved before, but right now it made her skin burn.  No—she needed something soon, otherwise she was going to get blurry vision again.  Hands came up to her face, pulling heavily on her locks.  Anessa tugs her roots like a madman, her lips curled into a painful grimace as she shook her head violently.  Fists came up, knocking against her temples in a small fit of panic. 

“ ** _Fuck_** … _dammit_ …what do I do…?!”

**Crunch.  Crunch.  Crunch.**

Dead matter crumbled beneath the weight of two feet.  Anessa’s eyes dart up to see a man exiting the forest line, a rifle strapped to his back, to cross the road.  His weathered face came up to stare at her, the disheveled woman forcing him to pause all movement. 

“You alright miss?”

He sounded like a hick: real southern like.  Seeing the rifle, she could only safely assume that he was hunting.  Anessa felt foolish for not carrying her own gun or at least a can of mace, but that hunger made her forget all sorts of things.  There was a growl in her stomach again, loud and obnoxious, and she hoped that he hadn’t heard it.  The kindness being displayed from this total stranger pulled a weak smile from her lips. 

“Yes…I-I’m fine,” she didn’t sound it.  Honestly, she was far from it.  Just moments ago, she was on the verge of a breakdown, shaking violently.  But all of that she managed to push aside upon being in another’s presence.

Good, she thought—she wanted at least some humanity. 

He adjusts his footing to look at her better, “You lost?  I can help you get back to where you need to go!  Got me a goooood hiking spot, too.  Leads straight to the city.  It’s a well way’s off though, but if you follow it you’ll be there by probably nine tonight.”

Anessa was well aware of the path—she was a ranger after all.  It wasn’t all that dangerous, but often times small gangs would hang around its midst to exchange in fights or business.  Since she lived so close to it she had become the face they all hated.  That didn’t include this hunter, however.  He didn’t seem to know her, which wasn’t much of a surprise since there were so many rangers in the Smoky Mountains.

About to decline she opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

_That smell._

Like musk and sweat.  It faintly reminded her of Jack but it…wasn’t quite him.  Brown eyes stared the hunter up and down in a way that he had mistaken for distrust.  It only made him smile reassuringly, “Awe c’mon darlin’.  I won’t hurt ya.  Got yourself a chivalrous man that just wants to help you.”

**_Go on._ **

Nostrils flared, her body tensing at the way her gut and…something else…spasmed at the scent of him.  Eyes shifted to the side.  She wanted to shake her head, to distract herself from that nasty voice deep down inside.  That voice that remotely reminded her of Jack, but it wasn’t.  It was that animal inside of her dying to claw its way out, ever since she ate Bart…getting far as possible away from this man was the best thing to do. 

Letting out a shaky breath she nods.

Anessa **_nods,_** but she didn’t **_mean to._**

Mindlessly she follows him, her body hunched to shadow her features.  The sunlight was soon blocked by the bundles of leaves.  Wind moves branches, shuffling the bundles and causing a rippling effect on the shadows that casted on the ground.  They have been walking for a little while, the hunter making some comments here and there and Anessa providing him with minimal responses.  He must have assumed that she was upset about something, not that he was wrong in any way.

There was a battle going on in the deep crevices of her brain—a battle between good and evil.  Instinctively, she bit down on her bottom lip.  She wasn’t sure what she was capable of.  The thought scared her.  The possibilities, which were seemingly endless, horrified her.  In yet, she was still following close behind him without any effort of stopping.  All her energy was being wasted on controlling herself—keeping human.  Why didn’t she just turn and leave? 

_No…what am I doing?  I don’t want to do something terrible…_

Chocolate eyes glance up again to survey the stranger before her.  She watched the way his vest casted down his shoulders, concealing the plaid button down that was lightly moist from all the sweat he had.  It wasn’t hot out, but he was in a constant motion since probably this morning.  He smelled hardworking with a light mist of tobacco, and faintly she could make out some cheap aftershave. 

_Would I…do something terrible?  Am I even capable of it?_

But the wind picked up, if not for a moment, and she felt the warmth radiating from his body when she accidentally bumps into him. 

“Sorry miss, there was a dip right here I almost stepped in!”

He continues forward, leaving Anessa, not noticing the way her expression contorted. 

Nose cringed, her lips curling inward as she gritted her teeth.  _That smell,_ she huffs, shaking her head slightly before glancing up at him.  He was talking, about what she wasn’t sure, and she could hear something beneath his words growing louder.  A heartbeat rings in her ears, beckoning for her. 

The hunter pauses, noticing her lack of footsteps, and turns to see her downturned face.  “Miss?  You tired?”

“I-I…”

In the corners of her mind something terrible was approaching.  Waves of hysteria tugged against her self-control, which was so very weak and fibrous.  Tendons shivered, her digits popping at the constant clasping motion she was making in a sad, pathetic attempt to reach a sense of calm.  A sense of control.  Anessa felt like she was drowning—felt like she was being pulled under again.  Like the ocean, it was cold, dark, yet it beckoned her soothingly.  Wisps of a whisper were edging her in the back of her mind.  A cold and lifeless thing that smiled down at her frail attempts.  A desire that simply wanted her to be **_whole_** again.  It was then she realized how much it reminded her of Jack. 

Right now, she felt oh so empty.  A big crater was in her heart, her gut.  **Something** was missing, and she knew all too well what it was.  The hunter was nearing her now, concern weaving along every corner of his wrinkly face, but she bites the air.  “Get back!” her voice was desperate, dangerous and ragged enough to make him stop all motions. 

This was turning very bad very fast.  Why did she agree to follow him?  Did her subconscious guide her actions?  Did that dark, dangerous, disgusting side of her slip through earlier?  Perhaps it did, but she didn’t have the time to contemplate for long.  That rumble in her belly made her body shiver.  It was like something thick and hot and viscous was bubbling in a sickening brew in her gut.  Hunger—one of the three most primal things that drove an animal to do terrible deeds.  Tears welled up in her eyes, her hair falling over her face as she hunched over.  Skin flushed with red, her eyes stinging from the salty mixture that dripped down her cheeks.  Dammit—damn it all!  This was too much, even for someone who had as much pride as her. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Oh…she had almost forgotten about _him_ …

Jaw slacked, she probed at her teeth with her tongue, feeling the way she was salivating.  Her eyes were glued to the dirt and leaves, too scared to look up at him.  To see his face.  She didn’t need to see him to sense his apprehension.  It stunk off him—Anessa wondered how she could smell emotions.  It made her feel dreadfully similar to Jack.  Oh God; she didn’t want to be him.  She’d rather die.  But that **_smell_** was driving her mad ** _._**  

“Why do you smell so good…?”

The question mindlessly slipped from her lips.  It was so odd that it earned her a grunt as a response.  He was about to say something, but the growl he heard forced his glance to the side.  Shit—was that a wolf?  Or a mountain lion? 

He hears it again, this time louder, and it drew him to look back at his company.  The man’s eyes widen as he realized the noise was emanating from his company.  It didn’t seem right—it was far from it.  How was she able to produce such a noise?  Without thinking he takes a step back, slowly.  Leaves crunch beneath his feet, her eyes fixating on his retreating form now, and he instantly froze. 

Her eyes—something about them were off. 

“Just…settle down there.”

A loud breath rushes from her lungs, causing her jaw to clatter.  Her hands came into view, shaking violently from all the anticipation welling up in her gut.  **_“So hungry…dammit…”_**

_No…I don’t wanna be like Jack…I don’t wanna be like him!_

“Oh…” she huffs, fingers digging deeper into her scalp. 

What if…what if she **_was_** Jack? 

His thoughts, his feelings, his actions…they were all shared with her, were they not?  Didn’t that mean…in the end…it could be possible that changing was inevitable?  “ _Please no_ ,” she huffs, lips rolling into a thin line as she shook her head.  She didn’t want that—it was obvious, but painfully true.  “I don’t wanna kill him…I don’t wanna be like Jack…!”

The sound of something clunking made her freeze.  That rifle of his was pointing at her a little menacingly.  It noticeably shook in his grasp—he must have never pointed a gun at a human before.  He would never consider doing this to a lady, but at that moment her voice sounded different.  Sounded almost inhuman.  And it scared him half to death. 

“Back away.  I don’t want no harm.”

Something about his heart racing merging with the scent he was giving off made her mouth water all the more.  Anessa takes a step forward, a dangerous glint in her eyes that he understood too well from all his years of hunting.  “Please…run away,” her voice was so strained, so full of pain, but she was **_smiling._** “Run away.  Or I’ll kill you.” 

Kill him?  He couldn’t follow—what was she trying to prove?  He had a gun, after all, and she was so small.  Anessa reaches over, her hand pressing firmly against the trunk of a nearby tree for support.  But her fingers dug inward, crushing the rigid surface until the mass warped from her touch.  The tree splinters, the force of her hold so powerful that she tore a chunk off its surface.  The muscles in his chest squeezed at such a terrifying showcase of strength, his eyes pulling open even more now, and he caught a glimpse of her eyes again. 

A humanly shade of brown was housing something beneath the glossy exterior.  A darkness that swirled, an evil thing like the aura that lingered in the air around her now.  How could something so innocent looking be so cruel, and not having done much but expose her incredible strength?  This was something from the scary stories—a nightmare come to life, personified, and standing right here in front of him.  A tightness squeezed his throat, and he couldn’t breathe.  He was panicking so much.  Without another word he turns on his heels and races down the dirty path.  Run—that’s all that his brain screamed.  Run and keep running.  Don’t stop—keep going.

Run.  Run or he’ll die.

Anessa had little restraint now.  He had only been 300 yards out when her legs darted her forward.  She wasn’t as fast as Jack, no, but she was faster than before.  The hunter could hear the patter of messy footsteps scurrying after him.  Hear the trunks of trees burst as her hands grazed them.  Hear his heart pounding in his chest louder than any snarl that poured from her stretched lips.  Something hard hits him on the side of the head.  She’d thrown a branch, a big one, and it knocks him to the ground. 

“Shit…!  SHIT!”

The hunter turns just in time to see her closing in.  Rolling to his back he points his rifle up.  The sound of his gun firing off echoes throughout the forest line before coming back like fireworks.  It deafened his ears—he never shot so many rounds so quickly.  He never needed to.  When her body slumped forward it skids across the ground, stopping just a few inches from his feet.  He lets out that breath that he was holding.

Shit—holy shit.  He just killed someone. 

Something in his mind told him to do it.  Told him he was in danger.  He wondered if all that was even necessary, though.  A muddy boot inches forward, poking at her scalp and earning no response.  She was dead—she had to be.  He got her right in the throat. 

Sweat rolled down his forehead, his middle-aged heart clenching in his chest.  He could have had a heart attack right then and there, but he didn’t.  Swallowing the lump in his throat he shakily reaches into his vest pocket, shuffling around its messy contents as he kicked himself to a safe distance.  The hunter did what he figured he’d regret and reached for his cellphone.  He should still have some connection to make a quick call.  When the police arrive, he didn’t know what he’d say. 

In the midst of his panic he could hear a light cackle accompany the sound of popping flesh.  The hunted paused mid dial, eyes rearing open at the quivering sight on the floor.  From the ground she stood, her body contorting in an ugly sort of way.  It was obscene, indescribable.  Joints came together again, the mangled flesh of a bullet wound oozing with blood that seemed far too dark for a normal human being.  Fingers pinched inward, and as they buried into the gaping hole he couldn’t help but gag. 

**_“I told you to run, didn’t I?”_ **

After some fishing Anessa pulls out the bullet with a pained yet pleased grunt.  It falls onto the ground. 

**Clunk.**

Great—about five more to go.

“ _What_ … _what_ the hell are you?!”

Did she hear that question right?  What was she?  That malicious look in her eyes died out for a moment, and as the setting sun gleamed on her face he noticed a distant, saddened look on her face. 

“I’m…not sure,” she mused, her voice an odd combination of melancholy and soothing.  His face wrinkled inward more, his body limping back further against the wall when her back straightened.  Blood stained her face, and her eyes caught the light of the streetlamp far above.  Those eyes—they were lifeless almost.  Her fingers rubbed in small circles, and she found her blood captivating.  The smell—the smoothness—the pretty ruby glow.  All too quickly he saw her eyes lose any remain of human luster.  They were void of life again, only evil and depravity lingered there.  Gooey, sticky, slippery red blood tainted her fingertips, and mindlessly she sticks them into her mouth to rub eagerly around her gums. 

So good.

**Eat.**

**_“I’m so hungry…”_ **

“What…what are you…?”

Anessa’s hand fell to her side, her eyes catching a glimpse of his quivering body.  That smell—it was invigorating.  What was it, exactly?  It wasn’t his blood—it was something else.  Something rich and addictive.  A cry escapes his lips when she takes a step forward, and right there that smell sparked, a little more concentrated than before.  Anessa’s eyes widening at her realization.

**_“You’re afraid of me…aren’t you?”_ **

Tears were finally falling, a weak cry fumbling from his lips as he rubbed the ground frantically.  No more bullets, no more weapons, no more energy.  “P-Please…just leave me alone lady…!”  Anessa bites down hard on her lip, so hard that she draws blood.  The sight brought a new level of fear in his gut.  Made him quiver like a leaf. 

**_“I wanted to.  But I can’t now.”_ **

**Eat.**

After the long, dreadful silence, Anessa found herself approaching him again.  Her knees dug into the ground, her legs on either side of him as she buries her fingers along his straggly hairline.  The man stammers, his breaths quick and uneven and oh so addictive to listen to.  Soon, gasps became cries of agony, and all she was doing was staring. 

His heartbeat was hammering in her ears, the sounds of blood rushing through his veins at an alarming rate almost deafening.  Anessa bites down hard on her lip.

**_Eat._ **

Her teeth latched onto his neck so suddenly, catching him by surprise.  The scream erupting from his throat was drowned out as she tore into his trachea.  Warmth spilled between them, her body pressing deeply against his.  Fingers latched along her back, attempting to pull her off, but upon his blood coating her tongue some inhuman strength within her awakened.  Anessa moans at the sensation that warmed up her muscles—like a rush of pleasure. 

 ** _I’m sorry,_** she thought, tears welling up in her eyes, but that taste was driving her insane.  Soon the regret was drowning, the content in a fresh kill and the taste of his flavor being savored as she soaked it all in.  **_I’m so sorry…I can’t stop._**

Soon she was lost to her iniquity—a deviant of unearthly things.  A corner of his neck was caved in now, a sloppy mess on the floor as she dropped him after some time.  Staggering breathes came drifting from between her parted lips as she sat, motionlessly, listening to the sounds of nature.  But the birds had stopped singing, and the critters were no longer in sight.  There was nothing for miles.  Just dead silence and tall, looming trees.  Upon the pool of blood Anessa’s lips curl into a placid, soft smile. 

**_“I feel better…”_ **

Much…much better.  But something was off—something wasn’t right.  **_“Hmph…that nasty bastard,”_** she scoffs as she licked the blood off a delicate finger.  She was referring to none other than Jack; the memory of his irritating questioning only hours prior finally being put together in her head.  He was always the deceptive type, hiding his intentions in such obscure ways.  Anessa was a blunt woman, though, and with her natural temperament mixed with the mindlessness of this side of her that was currently dominating her mind…

“I think it’s time to go home.”

Pulling herself up she doesn’t even bother to dust the dead leaves from her pants.  No—Anessa wasn’t satisfied yet.  Without another noise she ventured on into the forest, homebound. 

There was something else she wanted to satiate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter!  
> In all honesty, I wrote the following chapter nsfw. How do my readers feel about smut? Thank you for your input! <3 <3 <3


	17. Jack's Omega (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa has given into the primitive, monstrous nature swirling inside her. Jack does not deny her body what it longs for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Story has been switched to explicit for that reason.

Nightfall was nearing.  In about forty minutes the dark sky would drape over the horizon.  Blackness like pitch out in the wilderness of the Tennessee home offered a soothing comfort for night crawlers like Jack.  But in this case, it made him angsty. 

Where the hell was Anessa?

She would have been home by now.  He knew this through experience.  Jack had hunted earlier that day, bringing home a quartered thigh of a deer, and as time went by (and he was faced with terrible boredom) the monster decided to wrap it up in plastic before sliding it into the painfully empty fridge.  Another hour had passed, and he slipped into the shower to bathe before changing into those grey sweatpants.  He would have put on the shirt too, but it Jack was angsty. 

Clawed talons drummed along the surface of his knee, tugging lightly the patchwork of the 80% cotton sweats, and when yet another hour passed he took the time to scrape off the hardened gunk from the inside of his mask.  Grey, murky water lightly stained the eggshell white porcelain sink, and as the mask dripped in his grasp he placed it over his face.  The belt was loosely strapped behind his head, his brown locks still moistened from his shower.

He doesn’t remember when he first got this mask.  It had been so long. 

Another hour. 

Jack was sitting in the living room now, silent, concentrating. 

Perhaps if he felt for her, he could sense what she was thinking?  No—that’s the problem.  She hadn’t been thinking for hours now.  Anessa was a prideful person, but all humans thought.  Her voice would chime in his head so often—quite often—and before it would drive him to madness.  Now, ironically, he was longing for that sweet sound of her inner most thoughts. 

A disgusting remark. 

A snarky comment on how irritating he was. 

Anything.

He fell short on his search, yielding nothing but the lonesome silence that he had faced for many…countless…years.  Maybe he was growing soft…? 

**_Did she die?_ **

No.  That wasn’t the case.  He would have known—would have felt it.  The pain in his stomach had long since subsided rather well.  That meant she found something to eat.  Most likely a handful of dead rodents or maybe a rabbit.  Nothing worth burning the precious calories over. 

 ** _What does it matter?_**  

He couldn’t say—except for the fact that he really, truly, was _fond_ of her.  The realization came to him months prior, and every time he was reminded of how much he enjoyed her presence he always went into a fit of rage.  The first few times he wasn’t considerate of her space, having buried his nails into the walls or furniture.  Now, he would disappear into the tree line of the forest for hours before returning, calmer and more collected. 

Eager to see her.

A huff escapes his lips, nailed fingers scratching along his broad chest as he leans his head back along the couch.  Any longer and he’ll end up leaving to search for her himself. 

The sound of the front door clicking open perched his ears.  Jack’s eyeless glance peered from behind his tainted blue mask.  A figure waltzed in from the darkness, Anessa’s hand reaching slowly towards the light switch.  Jack had almost forgotten that he was in pitch darkness now.

The room is flooded with light, agitating him slightly.

“Where the hell have you been?” he snarled at her.  Shit—he sounded too eager.  Jack winces at how pathetic he felt, but his voice caught in his throat at the unexpected sight.  The unexpected scent.

Blood was dried along her hand, the crusty rivers crawling up the length of her arm.  It stained her clothes, her once white tank top now soaked in a velvety crimson richness.  Dirt caked her pants, her hair clung onto her face.

She was covered in blood.

**_No…not just any blood._ **

_Human blood._

He knew that stench all too well.  **_“I’m home…”_** her voice was a lull.  Jack sits up, seconds from assessing her.  Was she injured?

**_No…that’s not her blood.  Why is she covered in it?  Unless…_ **

Why else would she have someone else’s blood on her?  Not thinking much of it, Jack’s lips pulled into a crooked smirk.  Then he began to laugh, his cackle slow but springing with life.  “I know that smell.  You hunted human flesh, didn’t you?” he snickers, voice laced with insanity.  “You lost your foolish little game…and now you’re filled with regret!”  He wished he was there to watch it all unfold, but there wasn’t any more room for disappointment.  Right now, Jack was laughing at the painful irony of it all.

When her eyes glazed over to glance at him his laughs are suppressed all too quickly. 

**_What…?_ **

Anessa was smiling so pleasantly, a dreamy yet dangerous look plastered on her blood-stained face.  She sauntered over to him in a way so graceful he could have sworn she was floating.  Jack’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask, his body tense.    

“You’re…” Jack’s senses flooded with the stench of death.  She reeked of it—the dismay of a fallen human splattered upon her body like some form of sick art.  But as she wore the entrails and remains of her previous meal, she carried a life that her formerly meager appearance lacked.  Her gentle touch came down upon him, gracing his chin ever so slightly that it left goosebumps.  Jack’s face was arched upwards, his neck exposed now as she ran her nails along the hard bone of his jaw.  It left a fiery path, blistering his flesh with a delicious heat that made his heart cringe.

Anessa’s eyes glistened with something he had never seen before—a mischievous, evil stare.  “You were right Jack…all that garbage before did nothing for me.  I feel so much better now,” she said, her tongue slithering out to rake along her tainted bottom lip.

**_How curious…_ **

It wasn’t a question of what was wrong with her.  Hell, it wasn’t even a question at all.  Somewhere, at some point, Anessa lost that long and painful battle with that darkness that Jack’s psyche blossomed into her.  Now as her more structured psyche laid in taters, a much more interesting version of herself was pulling the reigns.  Jack swallowed the saliva that built up, breathing heavily beneath the confines of his mask.  Locked in position, he couldn’t even bring himself to tilt his head as he groaned out an airy, _“Oh…?”_

Heat radiated in his groin, burning his loins from watching such a simple act of Anessa licking her own lips and enjoying the flavor.  Anessa’s eyes open again before she is fixated on his face.  “Why do you wear that ridiculous thing?” she hums, playing with the rim of his mask.  She raises it over his head, his messy locks shifting from the gentle motion, and Jack hears the sound of it clattering on the floor.  His expression was exposed now—perplexed, shocked, speechless Jack.  Anessa’s smile only pulled more, rather amused by the dazed look on his face. 

Jack, stunned, eyed her astounded.  It was as if she was a different person.  Someone else…surely this couldn’t be Anessa. 

Oh…but it was. 

Arching his head back slightly he chuckles at the sight, “I was about to ask what had gotten into you, but now I see.  You’ve finally lost to your own instinctive nature.  Did I not warn you that it would hit you harder than before, my dear Anessa?”  His tone was reprimanding and judging, almost insulting, but that didn’t last long. 

A finger grazed his lower lip, the flesh supple yet calloused to her touch.  Her thumb pressed between them as they parted to take a sharp, startled breath.  His teeth graze her flesh, and she presses down firmly to allow his razor canines to slit a deep cut along the pad of her digit.  The amount of disbelief that was pouring in his sense was alarming, yet all he could do was sit there and take it all in.  Mouth flooding with blood, Jack’s tongue mindlessly laps the surface of her injury, his heart picking up at the lewd hum of approval that escaped her wet lips.  The taste of her blood, sweet and addictive, made him realize something.  That smell in the air was of sweat and musk, but something else lingered.  Something fragrant that drew him in. 

Humans never gave off an aroma quite as potent as this, and as her sheer proximity made it all the stronger he couldn’t help but feel his spine tingle.  Body reacting accordingly, he could feel his stomach clench and body flash with a sudden wave.  She was in heat.  There was no doubt in his mind now.    

“You’re always so elusive.  But I’m not as dumb as you think.  You’re beginning to become predictable.”

His breathing halts, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.  **_“What?”_** his tone was threatening, but that didn’t alter the way his body was shamefully reacting. 

“There’s something else going on with me.  Why don’t you be honest and tell me what it is, **_Jack_**.”

The way she said his name tauntingly made his skin crawl.  As if caught in the act he snarls.  If he still had eyes, Jack would have glanced to the side.  But that wasn’t quite the option—the way Jack saw things was far from tunnel vision.  He saw everything evenly, at the same time, with the same total focus, so unless he completely looked away from her vicinity she would still be there in his clear vision.  But for some reason, at this moment, it felt like everything else but her was blurred out…

That pissed him off to no end, but her light hum caught him from his thoughts.  “Apprehensive, aren’t we?”  She takes his hand, and if it weren’t for her surprisingly solid grip he would have jerk his arm away.  But he was curious, very curious, as she pressed his fingers along her waist to leave them there.

Her finger draws out from his mouth now, leaving a bloody trail along his chin down to the rough hairs along his jaw.  Jack growls, “Don’t make a fool out of me, woman.”  But his hand doesn’t yield.  Instead, he kneads his thumb into the flesh of her side, watching the way she arches ever so slightly towards his hot palm.  A struggled sounding breath slips between his sneering lips, and Jack looked like he was trying very hard to _resist._

**_Such a sweet smell.  Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?_ **

_“Shut up,”_ a monstrous growl rips from his throat at that voice in his head.  But the way Anessa’s bloody finger traces his jaw again…

She was just so tantalizing. 

Biting down on her lip she grins slightly, her voice like a mist when she spoke.  “Are you stuck in your head again?”  She leans forward. 

“I thought I was your _omega…”_

Stomach ached with want, his muscles shivering and tense at the ripened scent of lust.  “ ** _Anessa_** ,” he growls, that primitive side of him awakening.  Heat radiated from her, a delectable heat, and it drew him in like opposing magnets. 

**_Yes…!_ **

Jack leans forward on the verge of lunging at her, his pent up sexual need fueling his body to give in to his cravings. 

**_Let me have you!_ **

But a hand slams against his throat, squeezing painfully as he was shoved back into the couch.  A knee presses between his spread thighs, her leg rubbing painfully along his sore erection, and it earns her a desperate hiss from the grey-skinned monster. 

Jack wasn’t one to submit.  He wasn’t one to play the bottom bitch.  But the way she was acting—so carelessly, so wildly.  Like an untamed fire finally free from a metal prison, with all the fuel it ever needed to grow.  And grow.  And grow.

The exquisite beauty was blossoming before him in a way he never expected yet longed for.  The way her shoulders shifted, her neck arching forward to press her hot tongue along his stained lips.  Licking away at her own mess.  A growl rumbles from the confines of his throat, his clawed hands gripping tightly along her belted hips, and Jack’s tongue slips out to feel the delightful softness of hers.  Just a taste was all he wanted—a taste of this remarkable specimen. 

But Anessa leans back just in time, her fingers digging deep into his chest.  She had no claws, yet she managed to tear a bit at his shirt and break skin.  Four lines were scraped onto his muscular physique, Jack’s abdomen tensing from the sudden pain that seared his flesh.  A snarl roars from him, both startled and aching, but before he could act he noticed the strange look on her face.  Like she was dazed, confused.

 ** _Shit,_** Jack growls, noticing what was going on right away. 

Shakily Anessa stares at her hand, his blood rolling along her digits as quick breaths became ragged.  She whimpers, her legs wanting to buckle on her own weight. 

“W-What’s wrong with me?”

No—no this wasn’t her. This wasn’t her at all. 

Jack’s thick digits had slicked up the blood from his fresh cuts.  He slips his claws between her parted lips.  The foreign liquid stuns her, the tears threatening to well up in her eyes stinging them, but she glances down to see the strange look on his face.  A clicking noise erupts from his throat, his arms drawing her closer as he allows his seated body to press along her.  Face against her navel he inhales the scent of her sweat, his grip tight on her hip as she licks fervently his blackened, tainted blood.  A wholehearted hum breaks the silence of their heavy panting, her lips curling at the strange flavor, and it was like nothing she had ever had the pleasure of tasting.  Jack understood that battle she was having—he knew how to break free from it, and he knew what drowned him in deeper.  Nothing coaxed him into madness like _blood._  

Absentmindedly he was rubbing himself against her leg, growing hard from all the excitement.  Needy humps, like a heated dog, and he was leaning forward.  Face buried between the crevice of her breast, he gazed up at her with his blackened, hollow gaze. 

Powerful—the animal inside her was so potent now that it drew his mindless side out with minimal effort. 

**_Careful, careful now.  Least she will fully wake from this blissful trance._ **

A groan fills her ears, his groan insect-like clicks and deep, guttural growls.  He wasn’t going to _ask_ her to _submit_ , but nor did he want to have to fight to take her.  Jack pulls her body down, her legs straddling his hips as he grinds into her.  She whimpers. 

**_“Shhhhh.”_ **

His soothing hush drew that dazed look on her face.  Jack was grinning, his jagged teeth pressed firmly together as he mustered up all the strength he had to not tear into her then and there.  He digs his nails into her hips, tearing through the cloth of her jeans effortlessly.  Earning no reaction from her, not even a jerk, he continues his advances. 

 ** _“Hush now…you don't want this to stop now, do you?”_** blood seeps through, flooding beneath his nails and staining her clothing with a new fresh layer.

Calculatingly he presses his fingers into her tense muscles, heavily petting into her flesh and watching as her body arches to his touches.  **_“My Anessa…slip into the darkness again.  I can make the pain go away.”_** Expressionless, Anessa rubs her fingers along the messy brown locks of his hair.  Jack emits a purr, whether he notices or not she wasn’t sure, but her sanity was running low, and her body was pumping with pure adrenaline.  Her already fast heartbeat was quickening to dangerous levels at the scent that filled the air, but through it all she somehow managed to remain intact. 

**_“Copulate…merge with me.”_ **

He was so horny he couldn’t bare waiting any longer.  A light sigh slips from her parted lips, her head lolling to the side at the heat that was growing between them.  He was coaxing her back into that insanity, all the while she was bewitching him, and Jack never…ever… _fell_. 

 ** _Weak,_** he heard that voice in the back of his mind as one of his hands came to claw at her tank top.  Nails poked through, leaving bleeding yet shallow scratches along her back, returning the nasty favor.  That voice was in his head again, spitting cruelty.  **_Just a whiff of her heat and you’re weak.  Disgusting._** Mockery, insulting every inch of his being, taking him apart cell by cell.  He was weak now—pathetic—grinding against her warmth like the rutting animal that he was.  When her breathing picked up it drove his self-control through a wall.  Jack didn’t know what he wanted more: to slaughter her or to fuck her. 

How he wanted to feast upon her flesh while riding out the length of his orgasm.  That utter bliss would overwhelm him, ending any fraction of humanity inside of him in an instant.

No, he didn’t intend to make anything more from this exchange.  Mating—mating was all it was.  Not romance.  Not an act of kindness.  Not something as obscure as **_love._**  

At least, that's what he told himself to save his pride. 

Without any warning she closes the distance between them.  Lips locked firmly into his, her hands taking hold of his broad, strong shoulders as her body pressed flush against his.  Jack froze, his lids widening as the dark liquid stained her blood-soaked cheeks. 

The kiss was firm and unfamiliar, but as her body molded deeper into his, and as she melted into his rigid touch and moaned into his mouth, Jack felt himself drinking up the sensation rather than clawing at her flesh.  He had never been kissed before: never cared for it, never even thought of it.  His grip tightened, his neck craning forward to press against the contact harder.  Jack’s tongue slips in, the taste of his saliva addictive yet foul, and he feels her wet appendage grazing along his.  A deep grunt bellows from his chest into her throat, silencing her strained, eager noises.

Kissing—it made him feel oddly _human_.  And that horrified him.

**_What the fucking hell are you doing, Jack?!_ **

**_“Enough,”_** he snarls.  Jack’s body pushes her forward, her back hitting the carpeted ground.  He pounces on top of her, his hands grabbing either end of her leather belt before pulling.  It snaps under the extreme pressure, leather tearing into two as he ran a tongue along the exposed portion of her chest, his nails working on tearing apart the rest of her shirt.  **_“Little wretch.  Even in this state you still partake in humanly desires; kissing, loving, it’s all weak!”_** Hands came up, clawing at his grey skin, fingers curling holding on desperately as he heaves each breath.  Her voice was ringing in his head, his actions not once ceasing as he continued to tear off every article of clothing before exposing himself.  A light chortle shivers in her chest as he spread her bare legs, her psyche thoroughly damaged.  This—he didn’t want this part of her to go away.  It was invigorating.  Aside from those humanly desires of hers, it was perfect in every way. 

**_“Look at how desperate you’ve become…”_ **

Teeth latched along her shoulder, biting down harshly with every spastic motion.  Sweat-slicked legs wrapped around his hips, reeling him in closer as he thrusted painfully hard into her blistering heat.  Her voice was like a symphony—cries of ecstasy piercing the air, her blood-stained body shivering in delight beneath his muscular physique.  Pleasure stemmed in his gut, swirling viscously as sweat coated his skin.  Harder, _harder_ he fucked her.  Hands indigent of his touch rake fine scratches along his thick skin, flaring up his senses with every wild drive into her.  Jack watches the way she bites her lip, the way her eyes teared up from his perfectly aimed thrusts as his length stretches up her tight core.  He could feel her pleasure mixing with his, their unexplainable connection amplifying every little touch.  Every little quirk of rapture pinging in their guts. 

**_Utter perfection._ **

“J-Jack…”

Suddenly, he felt her fingers slip soothingly into his messy brown locks.  Eyes wide, Jack’s spastic movements grew still as he observed the look on her face.  Desperate, needy, longing.  Small gasps of air puffed and burned along his cheeks, her bare breasts heaving when she arches her face up to burry along the crook of his neck.  The contact so soft as she clung onto him. 

_Like she trusted him._

**_“What are you…”_ **

What…what was that just now?  Was it what she was feeling?  He didn’t even understand what it was.  Anessa’s body was flush against his, their stomachs pressed firmly together as he lowers them closer to the floor.  The connection between them never broke, her thighs quivering madly. 

**_“Idiot.  I don’t love you!  Enough!  I have no desire feeding into your pathetic wants!”_ **

It was mating and nothing else.

Yet her look was still longing.  Yet she didn’t complain of pain.  Yet she had spread her legs willingly for him and took him all in eagerly.  Leaning his head back he watches as Anessa writhes beneath him, a glassy look in her eyes.  From the freckles on her cheeks to the tips of her ears she was flushed pink. 

“Don’t say that,” her voice was a soft whimper, the sheer size of him stretching out her core beyond anything that ever has.  “Please don’t say that.”

Then it hit him.

He wanted to hear her voice say his _name._ Feel her lips along his neck, _moaning_ for him. 

No—it was _tempting_. 

 ** _You’re weak,_** that voice mocked him again.  **_It’s mating and nothing more.  Sex.  Breeding.  Pleasure.  Don’t make it what it’s not.  Don’t fall._**

Anessa’s lips parted, a breathy sigh escaping as she stares at him with those fucking _eyes._

**_DON’T FALL._ **

**_“Fuck,”_** he hisses.  Fresh blood stained his lips as he dared to give into his own human fantasies, his neck rearing down to lock lips with hers. 

 _Kiss,_ her voice said in his mind.  _I want a kiss._

Yes—a kiss.  Very well, he’ll give it.  He wanted it too, as vulnerable as it made him.  He could care less right now.  To hell with it, fuck the voices.  Fuck it all.  Jack could regret later for all he cared. 

He wanted all of her, **now**. 

The kiss was hungry and demanding, possessive as he forced himself onto her all-too-willing form.  To think that his first kiss would be with some blood-soaked woman decades after his death.  He plunges into her after a painfully long hiatus, her body tensing beneath him as she wraps her arms around his neck.  Anessa gasps.  **_“More,”_** he growls, tongue dragging hot over her bottom lip.  The slick wetness of hers slipping into his mouth made his body shiver.

Fingers dug into her hair, pulling her head back gently before he ran his tongue along her thin neck.  Old blood crusted along her skin, and he worked to cleaning her of the rotten stench of death.  He could taste her beneath it, and it was the flavor he longed for.  The feeling of his mindless sex driving into her sent her mind into a frenzy, his burning tongue aching her skin.  “Jack…!”

Dammit, he was weak. 

Jack’s cock sheathes into her again.

And again.

_And again._

His body presses against hers, his hands roaming and appreciating every delicate curve.  Face burying into her neck, he inhales her scent, relishing in it.  A shiver rolls down his back, each one of his senses on fire, drowning in absolute bliss as he spoiled himself with her presence.  It was divine, overwhelmingly so, and he wouldn’t mind taking refuge in her and her alone. 

**_WEAK._ **

Yes, he was.  But his lips wrapped around her shoulder, tongue swirling up the sweat that was pouring from her pores, and his name left her lips _again._  “ _Jack, I_ _’m gonna…_ ”

He was purring throughout the entirety of it all.  Grey skin felt fiery to the touch, her sweat soaking up into the carpet.  Teeth break through her skin again, the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, and he kept a tight old onto her as his movements were erratic.  Soon his growling became soft grunts, each thrust bringing him closer to completion.  The way she clamped around his ever-aching cock, and the way she dug her fingers into his brown hair, made him press flush along her.  **_“You’re close.”_**

 _“Oh Jack…p-please,”_ she begs, the sight of her blood rolling down his chin making her head spin. 

**_“Come for me...!”_ **

He could feel her clenching down onto him, the tightness of her heat being the only thing he could feel.  Jack’s breathes were labored, his orgasm striking his body with immense pleasure.  He didn’t yield, riding it out for as long as he could.  The gentle brush of her fingers along his rippled back only made the intensity of his high all the more powerful.  **_“Yes…yes!  You’re mine…all mine!”_** he was chanting mindlessly, saliva tainting his lips as he found himself leaning into another kiss.  He tasted every inch of her mouth, his rutting slowly dying into a softer pace.  Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he inhales her scent deeply, all the while memorizing the pleasant feel of their connection.  The heat of her bare body against his, like two pieces of a puzzle. 

 ** _“Anessa…”_** he breathes, arms wrapped tightly around her.

No---this was bad. 

As her arms weakly snaked around his back he couldn’t help but feel completely and utterly ensnared by her.  Lips brushed against the shell of her ear, her voice humming pleasantly as she felt that painful urge finally subside.  Jack, having been so tense from all his retrains, finally melts into her touch.   Willingly. 

**_“What have you done to me.”_ **

****

 


	18. Semblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Anessa's copulation only stemmed deep senses of regret into them. For Jack, it exposed a nature that had long been dead.

He felt warm.

That wasn’t obscure.  Jack always felt warm. 

_This is different though._

He dared to glance downward, attention fixated on the softness that was pressed along his torso.  There, he noticed a leg craned around his hip, the soft palm resting against his bare chest.  Huffs of air breathed gently, caressing his neck with every exhale.  Jack barely noticed _who_ it was.  Barely noticed how absent of clothing they both were.  

Shit…holy **_shit_**.

Jack was on his back while Anessa was curled against him, an arm and leg draped over his center.  His fingers twitched when he noticed the way his left arm was craned around her, having reeled her in his slumber.  He couldn’t have.  He shouldn’t be.

**_You.  Did._ **

Teeth bit down hard on his tongue as his face twisted into an ugly, demented glare.  He wanted to forget.  **_Fuck_** —he didn’t want to remember ALL of it.  But that didn’t change that it _did_ in fact _happen._ Jack sits up, his body rigid with unbearable tension as he slips his arm away.  He was careful enough not to wake her up.  Down on all fours, he couldn’t help but just stare at her, that disbelief still plastered on his grey features.

**_Just look at her._ **

He did.  He looked and looked, but not particularly at her.  Through her.  Through everything.  All he could see were his nails digging into the carpeting, and his arms tensing, and his body shivering with an enormous amount of pure dread. 

**_Pathetic…small…disgusting._ **

Fucking her wasn’t the issue.  He was willing to do it before—he was willing to do it last night.  That didn’t change anything.  What _changed_ was the _stirring_ inside of him.  The plague of emotions from last night that have yet to leave him at this very moment. 

This was far too radical for him to ignore, teeth gritting down to the gums, and when he noticed the bruises along her hips and abdomen he tasted something sour in his mouth.  Last night something happened.  Something _human._

Dare he even say it? 

Something _passionate_.

A short cry bursts from him, though it wasn’t quiet.  It was loud and weighted with a great deal of pain.  So much so, that he felt his throat tear apart in that single second.  

**_Come now Jack, there’s a way to redeem yourself._ **

Was there really?  Alarmingly fast heaves of air were slowing down at a timely rate, his interested peaked as his gaze lands upon Anessa again. 

**_You made a fatal error.  But we can fix it.  Just give in._ **

He wasn’t hungry though—he didn’t feel like feasting.  Those talons of his curled as he rose an arm, just inches from her shoulder.  There, his bite mark had already begun to heal, the gaping punctures shallow. 

**_Kill her._ **

It would have an impact, indeed.  Just do it.  Just kill her, and all will be over.  Then he could forget about the whole ordeal.  Then he could forget about those feelings. 

Then he could finally forget about **_Anessa._**

**_“You…fucking…cunt…!”_** he snarls, arm shivering with malicious intent.  The amount of anger he had was so severe, and the fact that a good portion was towards himself didn’t make it any better.  This would fix it all.  This would quench the voice in his mind to lay the fuck off him.  To end its mockery. 

**_Hahah!  Yes!  That’s it Jack—it’s her fault.  How dare she catch our eye?  Slit her throat.  Break her bones.  You’re hungry now, aren’t you?_ **

Drool slipped from his lips like a thick river, drizzling down towards his stubbled chin before dripping into the carpet with light _dabbing_ sounds.  Those clicks were erupting from his throat—insect like chirps clacking, mirroring that of cicadas in the hot summer mornings.  Nothing was going to stop him now.  No cops.  No knocks on the doors.  No cocky little Anessa with enough balls to break her own damn _fingers_ to keep him at bay.  Even then, he wasn’t afraid of her level of pain.  No pain could level up to the ignominy of being remotely human.

Suddenly, her eyes opened.  Jack did something he absolutely abhorred.  He didn’t stall, he didn’t continue.  He simply just stopped all motions.  Claws hovered just inches from her, and though his fingers were arched in such a threatening way, the only thing her gaze was fixated on was his face.

Cringed, distressed, with brows downturned and shark-like teeth bared. 

Anessa could feel the air tickling her skin.  Could feel the ache in her side from sleeping on the hard floor.  As she shifted her legs she felt that twisting, lingering soreness deep between her thighs.

Then she remembered.

A hand, shaking, reaches up to touch around her mouth as she slowly leans up.  Jack could hear her joints popping, could see the expression on her face turn from dull, to confused, to panicked.  And then, finally, with a wisp of a staggering breath, she wallows in the flood of memories.  Anessa: strong, independent, stubborn as an ox Anessa. 

She didn’t seem very strong anymore.

The first thing Anessa noticed was how naked she was.  How naked _Jack_ was.  The way he had been reaching out to hard scared the life out of her, and she jerks back in stark fear.  “… _no_ …!” she shook her head, legs kicking limply as she dragged herself away from him.  Jack watched after, his words taken from him as he witnessed the torment unfolding.  “ _We didn’t…!_ ”

**_We did._ **

He wasn’t sure what was more aggravating: her agony reflecting in his own thoughts, or that damned voice plaguing his mind for as long as he could remember.

Just then she noticed the blood that dried on her skin, and furiously she scratched at it.  “No…no, no, no, _no, nooo…”_ lashes were shimmering, and Jack smelt the tinge of tears drift through the air.  Despair had the stench of molasses and tar.  It was almost like death: a sweet, pungent smell that lingered for days.  Despair was something of acquired taste.  A killer like him appreciated ever tang, every lingering scent of dread and fear.  For some reason his mouth wasn’t watering.  For some reason, he wasn’t laughing.  He was just staring at her, watching her pitiful efforts to regain some sort of control.  Fingers buried into her scalp, tugging viciously at her messy strands of hair.  Anessa felt so exposed.  Felt so…no.

Oh God no, there weren’t even any words to describe it.

It was too horrible to compare to anything she ever knew.  Torture, loss, **_death._** Anything but this. 

Anything but not only being a murderer now, but having given herself **_willingly_** to the monster that started it all.  Fat tears were streaming down her face now, her cries too powerful to even produce a single noise.  So, she settled for screaming.  She screamed and screamed and screamed.  She never said the word “no” so much.  She never pulled her voice before yet kept at her screaming still.  She once believed that her cries for help while being pursued by him or calls for him to come back after leaving her pinned amid a raging blizzard were the loudest bellows she had ever mustered. 

How wrong she was. 

With her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms tucked tightly within her core, she buries her stained face onto her dirtied palms and cried in absolute silence.  “ _Just kill me.”_

Jack’s nostrils flared, his gaze lowering. 

“P-Please Jack…please **kill** me…just fucking do it already…!”

**_Yes!  Make it slow!  Let her suffer!_ **

Jaw clenched so painfully tight Jack crawls over at her slowly.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him—she barely even noticed him coming.  Barely noticed the taut muscles of his back rippling with each inhuman motion, or the sound of carpet pulling as his long nails tugged along the ground.  It wasn’t until his hot breath was against her knees, and she heard that dreadful sound of _clicking_ that she shivered in terror. 

**_What am I doing?_ **

Mindlessly he ran a tongue along her knee, the skin having broken from all her thrashing against the carpet.  The appendage was hot, the sensation she knew _all too well now._

That bastard.

"I said kill me…"

He wasn’t going to do it, was he?

“Kill me dammit!”  She lands a fist on his shoulder, his body jerking from the rough contact.  And she does it again.

Again. 

Again.

Again.

Not even a budge after the first swing.  She couldn't believe how weak her fists were compared to him.  Yes, she was stronger, so much stronger.  But he was beyond her--light years in fact.  She was a small blade of grass amongst ant, but Jack was the sun.  He was the bright, blinding, burning sun, giving her energy she sought out. 

Like the moon’s relentless pull on the tides during the brink of midnight, Jack’s ever ominous presence was what really guided her.  Nurtured her.  Even now, in the peak of her anger, in the full 100% regret of her actions and beyond that, he was still the nurturer.  Still the beat in her heart.  The one who held the scissors with her thread of life between it. 

“I…I hate you…I hate you so much…” her tears were streaming out, staining the floor, moistening up the dried blood tainting her freckled face.  God—why her?  Why…why with him?

Why did she have to do the most **_intimate_** thing with **_him?_**

“G-Give it back…give it back to me!”

What she was asking for—no, demanding—wasn’t even possible.  He had her life, her sanity even, but her virginity?  Something special like that was too far…too much.  In the heat of her purest, most swollen sense of enragement, Anessa throws a punch to Jack’s face.  He didn’t even try to dodge, her fist knocking the wind out of him, and in the instant it makes contact she felt a searing pain against the side of her face.  A direct hit, no mercy, yet all that occurred was Jack’s head snapping to the side, a stream of blood slipping from his nostril.  Even that didn’t satisfy her.

“Why…why did you do this to me…?” the volume to her screams died out until she was just whimpering into her knees, her body bare and exposed.  She felt so small, so naked, kneeling there on the ground beneath his gaze.  Jack’s looming body felt like he was towering over her, even if he was on his knees just as much as she was.  Never before had she fallen so quickly, shattered and fragile and helpless while he was there. 

Feeble, pathetic. 

_I want it back…I want it back…I want to take it all back._

She killed a man yesterday.  It was all a blur, but she heard her screams.  But her self-hate and disappointment in herself was far too inadequate of a punishment.  **_Kill me,_** she thought repeatedly.  **_Kill me Jack.  Kill me._** Make it stop—that’s it.  That’s what she wanted.  To make it all just end.  Touching the side of her now painful face she clenches her jaw hard, fighting back every single urge in her body that wanted to let loose and cry. 

Anessa felt the touch of his lips against her shoulder, and it was an unfamiliar gesture.  No, she knew his lips against her skin all too well with how often she’d been hostage to his jaws.  This was different, though.  A soft press of warm lips pressed against her.  He wasn’t kissing her, but he was rather grazing his face against her shoulder, to her neck, where he _purred_ into her flesh almost too pleasantly, too familiarly.  Slowly Anessa rose her head, watery bloodshot eyes stinging from the salty mixture.  Jack was on all fours, his head resting along her left shoulder as his body neared hers.  

It made her think of her cats when they bumped heads against one another.  When they pressed their bodies and glided against one another. 

She growls, wanting to find the words to scream, but all she could do was stiffen up and wait to see what the hell the bastard was up to.  Possessively he touched her, his hands running along the length of her back, and Jack for once didn’t pay mind to the voice in his head. 

How delicate she looked. 

Like a flower plucked from the ground and left to dry out in the summer sun.

A low hiss escapes his lips, his attempts to hush her hiccups and cries.  It was ironic; just moments ago he was very willing to kill her.  So why was he doing this?  Why was he not exerting his dominance?  Slaughtering the sweet little lamb that he so deserved? 

Inside, Jack felt hollow.  Felt _human._ And all his hard work screamed for him to stop.  But he doesn’t yield from her.  Blackness goops from his eyes, smearing onto her picture-perfect skin.  She had no scar on her, except for the old gunshot wound she mentioned weeks ago on her left thigh.  No, she was white like snow beneath the dried blood.  A stark contrast to his scarred, tattered, murky _grey_ skin. 

When Jack felt her fingers burry into his messy brown locks he presses against her touch, his purrs shivering within his broad chest. 

**_Stop it._ **

The silence didn’t last long, that evil in his head prying at his business. 

**_You…you disgusting…fucking…pathetic trash!  STOP IT._ **

These substandard actions of his were rearing that ugly side of him.  Usually, Jack was the one to voice it to silence, but this time was different. 

**_Stop…!  We’ve worked so hard Jack…don’t submit to such inferiority!  Don’t let yourself be ruined!_ **

It was demanding him to cease. 

**_Sever the connection—she’s changing you.  It’s all her doing!  It’s her FAULT!!!_ **

Jack felt Anessa’s nose graze against that junction between his neck and shoulder.  Weak arms clung around him, her body agitated with the rage that still burned inside her, and he places a hand just below her breast to steady her shaky form.  She was crying on him—she didn’t even know why.  Jack was the last person she wanted to cry on.  The last person she _should_ seek comfort from.  But who did she have?  It wasn’t like she could get in her car and leave.  Even though Jack would let her, what would she tell whoever it was she found if they inquired on as to why she was suffering so much? 

She couldn’t, least they’d die.

Jack was all she had at the moment, so she did something she never did.  She swallowed her pride and let herself press against him. 

**_Please…_ **

Jack tenses—that voice inside his head was begging. 

It **_never_** begged.

**_Please stop._ **

Jack doesn’t dare move; whether it be to push her away or pull her in, he doesn’t dare move.

**_You’ll regret it…you’ll regret all of it._ **

There was no doubt that he would—no question about it.  Because he **_did_** in fact regret ** _._**

**_Because HE…will come._ **

“I hate you so much, Jack…”

Jack felt her shiver against him as she struggled to swallow her tears. 

“…And I hate you, Anessa.”

Remorse tickled in the back of his mind even long after he said that.  After some time, Anessa said, “Please, take me to the bathroom…”  Which he did without question.  He left her there, and for the rest of the day up until nightfall she stayed upstairs while Jack reigned the lower half of the domain. 

Thinking.

A few days later, Jack noticed Anessa sporting her work attire.  Never had he been so behind his schedule.  He had almost forgotten that an entire week had passed. 

“I’m going to work,” he heard her voice say out loud, his whereabouts nearby yet unknown to her.  The lock clicks, the sound of her car starting afterwards.  Then, she was gone. 

For the next few days they exchanged little words.  For some reason she’d tell him when she was leaving, calling out a simple, “ _I’m going to work now_ ” or “ _I’ll be back tonight._ ”  Anessa kept by her promises, coming back on time every night, and leaving again every morning.  And like always, each and every single time, she smelt like _him._

_She smelt like Dylan._

Today was no different.  Today shouldn’t have stood out in any way.  But the longer he found himself _eagerly waiting for her,_ the angrier he’d get.  He needn’t eat anytime soon, his hunger satiated fully, though the thought of sinking his teeth into a fresh kidney was palatable.  No, but what he truly wanted was to spread his stench onto her.  Mark her in every possible way, shape, or form.  Rile himself up in her presence.  Anessa was like a star: grossly bright and overwhelming, and he wanted to expose himself to her as much as possible.  Yet he couldn’t, because he still had that _voice_ and he still had his _pride._

The poetry behind it made him sick.

But the longer he waited, the more hours piling up, the _madder_ he felt.  Soon, he couldn’t sit still.  Soon, he found himself engrossed in the pictures of her hanging on the walls.  Soon, he began to knock his fists along his temples and scream into the stillness of the house _just like she would._ And how he hated…every… **fucking** … ** _moment_**.

**_You’re going mad._ **

_“NO…I’m **NOT**.”_

He was seething alone in the dark.  Going mad?  No—he wasn’t.  He was already insane.  He killed people, ate them, took sexual pleasure in basking in blood.  So, someone fucking tell him how he was any madder than he was then?

…Anessa—why did she have to work?  What was the purpose?  She should be here, with him, pressed against him.  Confining in him as he glorified her body.  Because she was _his_ woman.  _His_ Anessa. 

…no…why was he acting like this?

**_She’s haunting you.  You’re obsessed, Jack._ **

Rattling in breath after breath, Jack stalked up the stairs before entering her bedroom.  It smelt of her—a warm, welcoming, drawing scent, and instantly his mouth began to water.  Oh…how he wished he killed her…because he regrets everything now.  Hands clasping shut over and over again, Jack paces the room mindlessly, his mask over his face dripping with the black substance in his eyes.  Jack felt so on edge—so irritable.  There was a thirst that he couldn’t possibly quench without **_her_**. 

Her touch.  Her sent.  Everything.

Was this what longing felt like?  Was this what it was like to _miss_ someone?  He never got this bad, but he did always notice that it would subside upon hearing her car pull in on the drive way or hearing the subtle thoughts she had that would slip here or there.  Like how she missed tasting things, or how she wished she didn’t have to call for a code 130, whatever the fuck that meant.

He barely even noticed he was out in the woods now, trekking along the paths that only he had mapped out.  Only he knew. 

**_Where do you think you’re going?_ **

Jack could only laugh at himself now as he reached deep hunting territory.  Out here, even a ranger could easily get lost.  These were hunting grounds for the worse kinds of monsters, and Jack was the top of the food chain.  Talons aiding in his ascent, he tops a large jagged rock before rearing his head into the sky.  The sunlight blinded him, its unfamiliar rays spreading warmth into the hoodie that he hadn’t worn in a solid week.  Clicks vibrate from his throat, his head craning animalistic-like left and right as he searched the air for that sweet scent.  It wasn’t long until he found that smell of coconut shampoo and feminine musk.  With great haste he sprints through the forest in all fours, his muscles burning with how hard he was pushing himself.  Soon—he’d see her soon.  Just a peak, that’s all he was going to do. 

He did it before countless times.  This was no different, right?

When the aroma became strong he skidded to a stop, his nails burying into the trunk of a tree before climbing up it.  Like a mountain lion he perched, arms bent at an unnatural way, shoulders cracking as he pressed his stomach closer to the branch.  And he _watched._

**_This would be the perfect time to redeem yourself, Jack._ **

Anessa was there, back leaned along the freshly built railing that lined one of the many trails that barely rooted through the National Park.  She was facing away from him, but that was good.  A satisfied purr escapes his lips when the wind blew at his direction, carrying her scent tenfold into his vicinity, and Jack felt his body relax.  Running her fingers through her hair she takes a sip of her water bottle, and for the first time in a while Jack saw her both awake and completely relaxed. 

**_Kill her._ **

**_“…”_ **

No matter what ensnared her mind, Anessa always found comfort amongst the trees.  The forest felt homely.  It vaguely reminded her of her father—old, encompassing, endearing.  Everything and more.  She loved nature so much, that she couldn’t hate it even after it took her father from her.  That wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t be right.  Warm caramel hues still spotted the trees: shades of red and orange.  Soon they would be completely green, like the Evergreens, and Anessa would wait patiently until fall to see the raw beauty.  She almost forgot about her current state.  Broken, pride-stricken, exhausted all to hell.  There was a soreness in her muscles.  She never even let herself rest, she was so on edge.

She hoped she wasn’t pregnant.  That wasn’t a stupid thought, but she felt that it perhaps shouldn’t have been the most important.  Was Jack even capable of reproducing?  His body temperature was far too high to house sperm properly.  All those sex ed classes told her so.  A hand graces her lower belly, and she faintly remembers the feeling of being _taken._

Both hellish and rapturous. 

But she came out here not to reminisce, but to forget.  A deep breath slips into her flared nostrils, her enhanced olfactory allowing her to catch the subtler things.  The cool water of a mountain creek, the fresh tinge of cypress, the moist moss coating the southern faces of rocks, then…

…then that _stench_ of _death._

Breath catching in her throat, Anessa’s heartbeat instantly quickens.  Eyelids reared open, her head snapping back, and she was in full and total alertness.

“… _Jack_ …” she whispers, not daring speak his name too loud.  In the fear of drawing him in. 

Somewhere in the thick woods, Jack was there.  Waiting.  Watching. 

_What did I do…?!_

Panic settled in.

_Did I do something wrong?!_

Did she?  She doesn’t remember thinking anything bad or saying anything that could possibly draw his attention like this.  Jack never went out in the broad daylight as of late.  Knuckles whitened, her eyes rolling around to survey the vicinity, but her search came clean.  No shade of blue, no lurking figure.  Not even those strange, inhuman clicking sounds he made.

In yet she knew he was still there.  She could still _smell_ him.

“Anessa, do you have a moment?”

_Shit…!_

Anessa’s body jerks, her head snapping to spot her superior talking at a comfortable pace down the trail.  Taking a more proper stance, she turns to face the new voice.  “Mitch,” she grunts.

“You alright?”

Anessa nods, a ghosted look on her face.  “Yeah, I-I’m fine.  Sorry, just tired.  What’s up?”

They were exchanging words now, something about a shift change of some sorts, but Anessa couldn’t ignore the pungent smell of sweat, and terror, and _musk_.  Anessa was nervous, fear tainting every fiber of her being.  On occasion she glanced left, then right, as if she was admiring the nature around them.  But that wasn’t entirely the case.

She was _searching_ for _him._

“Is that fine with you?”

Shit—she hadn’t been paying attention.  A sheepish laugh escapes her, and she reaches up to scratch at her ponytail.  “Shit, I’m sorry Mitch.  I spaced out there.” 

The older man rose his brow before shaking his head, “Geez.  Just like yer old man.  You Milch’s always go dumb when yer in the forest, ya know that?  I’ll just text you about it later, alright?”  Anessa nods, watching as Mitch turns to take his leave, and for a moment she was relieved.  Until someone else came running passed the old man.

 “Loch Ness!  You up fer some grub?”

Palms sweaty, Anessa’s skin grows visibly pale.  She flashes a smile, forced and tight and far from sincere, and her words have a stutter to them.  “D-Dylan…no.  I’m good…”

He raises a brow, “Something wrong?”

Everything—everything was wrong.  The worse possible thing could happen.  Was _about_ to happen.  If he didn’t turn and leave _soon._ Nodding her head, she laughs, her nerves on the edge of snapping under the extreme pressure that Jack’s presence was giving her.  “Yeah!  Why wouldn’t I be?  Just admiring the scenery.”

Dylan beams his usual smirk, “There she is!  Oh—that reminds me.  My uncle owns a plot o’ land about thirty minutes north from here.  If I ask him right, he’ll let me go camping.  You can come with if you want.  I heard there’s a lake in it and everything.  40 acres!”

There was a waggle to his brow, a sway to his tone.  With a tight throat she swallowed, vision blurring.  “O-Oh…I thought you said I smell bad?”

“That was like, two weeks ago?  I thought I said I was sorry about that…it was probably my nerves.  I’ve been…meaning to ask you something.”

Breath hitched, Anessa could only mutter a jagged, _“Oh…?”_

Big hands reached up to adjust his ranger hat, Dylan flashing her his priceless grin.  “Now’s not the time though.  Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.”  His stomach growls, and instantly Dylan’s arms wrap tightly around his waist.  “Awe…shit.  Ima go to the men’s room real quick…meet me at the car in ten!”

Anessa, finding the will in herself to actually smile, watched as Dylan shuffles away.  “More like thirty.”

“Shut up!”

With that, he was gone. 

And Anessa was alone.

“…”  A long, staggering, uneven breath shivers from her lungs.  A breath she had been holding for far too long.  Slowly she turns to look behind her.  Nothing but the shrubs and trees and that thirty-foot drop were there.  She prayed he was gone.  Prayed he found that she was being _good_ like he so _threatened_ her to be.  Sticky hands reached up to press hard against her lips, tears almost welling up in her eyes.

Holy shit—holy **_shit_** she had never felt so damn scared.  Not even for herself, but for her coworkers.  Her _friends_.  Licking her lips, she lets her heart reach a more suitable pace, that inhuman quickness, and she bites the inside of her cheek to concentrate.  “Fuck…”

**CRACK.**

Yanking her head up to the sudden noise, she felt her eyes sting when small shards of wood fell upon her face.  Anessa rose her arms to shield herself, the bright sun blinding her field of vision.  But then she saw it.  Limbs tangled messily around the branches above her, the dark hooded figure looming like a shadow.  Midnight blue stared back at her, and as if to clarify any mad sense of doubt on who it could have possibly been suspended twenty feet above her, she felt something thick and acidic fall onto her face. 

Black goop straight from his eyes.

Jack leaps from the great height, the sound of his body hitting the ground so loud and deafening.  The trail boards cracked beneath the sudden weight, his bones snapping and popping from the pressure that they just endured.  But Jack stood slowly, eerily, unharmed and very… ** _unhappy._**

Quick breaths slowly dissolved into messy gasps of air, her eyes welling up as she hunched in dire fear.  Jack was there, truly there, and he was _shaking_. 

“Jack…” Anessa’s voice was so quiet.  Like speaking too loud would severely anger him.  Then he does it—the one thing she just simply loathed the most.

He **_tilts_** his head.  So slow, she heard his neck crack.

“Please…don’t…”

_Don’t hurt him._

Why else would he be here?  To make it worse, Dylan had just invited her to a private getaway moments ago, and surely he heard it.  Alive—she had to keep Dylan alive.  Had to keep Jack pleased. 

“I-I won’t go…I-I wasn’t going to.  I swear.”

He didn’t say anything.  In fact, he hadn’t even made a single noise since he dropped from his high vantage point.  It was as stupid act, but she glances behind her shoulder towards the far end of the trail, just to make sure that no one was coming.  Luckily, it was empty. 

Loud, slow, dangerous breathes beat on the other end of his mask.  Jack sounded like how he should have.  A masked killer. 

“You don’t have to worry about him, alright?” she says.  She _pleads._ God, she was begging him at this point, and Anessa **never** begs. 

Suddenly, he takes a step forward.  And then another.  And then _another_.  Anessa could feel the heat of his body rolling from him, the mixture of him and the bright summer sun making her skin feel muggy.  Yet, regardless of all sources of warmth, she felt an icy chill roll up her spine.  His claws were twitching oh so much.  There was a terribly itch to scratch, she knew it.  It was either Dylan or her. 

What else would he be after?

“S-Say something…” she stutters, his unreadability tearing her apart.

As if his knees had buckled, Jack had dropped down to his knees before her.  A fearful noise wheezes out of Anessa, her eyes wide like plates at the sight unveiling before her.  She had to stifle her scream when Jack’s arms latched around her waist at an inhuman speed, his talons clenching at her clothing as he pulls her in.  The hard surface of his mask was flush against her abdomen, warm black fluid drenching her once clean tanned uniform shirt, and Anessa winces at the sticky sensation. 

“What are you doing?!”

She didn’t dare express anger, or hate, or disapproval.  Jack was like a flashlight—at one moment he was on, and the next he was off.  Any wrong word and he would be ignited with a god-like fury.  Trembling into her, Jack lets out a seething sound.  A mix between a harsh gasp and a whistle tore through his throat, the muscles of his neck visibly hardening.  It looked like he was in some sort of physical pain, but Anessa knew that wasn’t the case.  She didn’t feel anything wrong with herself. 

Still apprehensive, still overwhelmed by fear, she reluctantly places a hand on his shoulder to give him a nudge.  “W…What are you…”

**_“Anessa…”_ **

His voice silenced her all too quickly.  Pressing his masked face further into her body, Jack takes in a deep breath of her scent.  No longer tremoring, Anessa felt a sense of confusion was over her as she stared down at the monster dumbfoundedly.

“…Jack…why are you here.”

Jack tenses, his grasp on her still tight, but his body had ceased from shivering.  There it was—that light-switch she always compared him to.  One moment, he was a mess and she didn’t understand why.  No, he was quiet.  An ominous aura was radiating from him now, thick and heavy and extremely weighted, and it didn’t help her case knowing that she was currently ensnared within his inhuman hold. 

“Did I do something to make you angry…?”

A strange, manic chuckle tumbled from his masked lips.  Strained, exhausted, overwhelmed sounding.  It made Anessa’s skin crawl—she couldn’t decipher the intentions behind such a cackle.  Slowly he loosens his grip on her, Jack’s hands slipping to grasp either side of her hips.  Neck craning up, Jack stares up at her with those hollowed out eyes of his, his breathing steady yet rigid as his thoughts swirled in the dense fog of his mind.   

**_I wanted to smell you._ **

**_I wanted to see you._ **

**_I missed you._ **

**_So much._ **

**_“NO…!”_ **

Nails dug into her flesh, her brows furrowing at the pain that branched from her hips.  Gripping his shoulders tightly she attempts to push him off, but to no avail. 

“Stop…let go of me…!” she wanted to scream at him but alerting others would have been the worse possible deed.  Never did Anessa think she would feel both afraid and annoyed simultaneously.  “What is wrong with you…?!”

The words that came out of his mouth sounded choked, **_“I don’t know.”_**

Pausing all attempts to free herself, she once again looks perplexed.  Before she could ask, Jack releases her and stands abruptly.  For a moment, he stares at her.  Motionless, like a statue.  Not a word.  Not a sound.  He could tell she was on the verge of saying something, but in seconds he was racing deep into the forest.  Suddenly, he was gone.

Anessa was speechless, but she didn’t have time to waste.  Hurriedly she makes way for the women’s restroom, gathering up a handful of paper towels in the attempts of wiping the goop from her shirt clean.  It proved to be a faulty attempt, and she had to make up a plausible story as to what that _weird_ black stuff on her shirt was and where it came from. 

When Anessa came home later that night she found that he wasn’t there waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote once chapter that seemed far too rushed, so it transformed into two. Have you guys ever done that before? It sucks...I'm trying to hard not to rush things.
> 
> Stuff's getting interesting! I wonder what kinds of things Jack is worried about...


	19. Curiosities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa can't help but want to know what Jack is. She also can't help but comfort him.

**_Idiot._ **

 He cackles, his laughter demented and dripping with rage.  He catches a scent, his nose flaring as his body plunged through shrubs and tore up old, solid pinewood.  Scampering feet was only yard before him, and Jack kicked greater.  Traveled faster. 

Nails buried into the flesh of a fleeing wolf, the howl dying in its throat as he pinned it between his muscular thighs.  Every slash, every punch, it screamed an agonizing noise that was deafening.  That scared the insects, the birds, the animals in the area.  Soon it was just him and it, and nothing was coming to save it.  Blood coated his body—Jack never wasted his precious energy slaughtering animals like this for fun.  He didn’t even go for the through, only concentrating on its torso.  Picking it bit by bit, tearing into the mutilated flesh until finally it dies of shock.  Finger dug into the dirt, Jack hunching over his kill to catching his staggered, wild breath. 

**_Do you feel better now, Jack?_ **

Another snicker slips through his downturned lips, his body tense beyond belief that he swore he was going to ache in the morning.  Veins pulsed beneath his leathery skin, his body dripping with sweat.  He pretended the body beneath him was Anessa, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy him.  Only her torn up corpse belonged under him and **nothing else.**

But…he didn’t want that either, did he?

He wanted her underneath him, but not suffering. 

_Begging._

Begging him to _not stop._

Begging him to _kiss her._

 “No…stop…” blackened streaks spilled down his face, his hands clamping down onto his skull tightly, his body hunching in on itself as he silently wept. 

**_You’re hopeless._ **

All day he’d been trying to think of something else, anything else but her.  Yet that’s all that was on his mind.  The connection made them so close he could taste her, smell her, _hear_ her voice.  Jack worked so hard _memorizing_ her before all of this that he ended up screwing himself over.  Now he couldn’t even _forget._ He remembered all of his victims, but not like how he remembered _her._

**_You see yourself in her, don’t you?_ **

Clearly—it was the only reason why he pitied something as miniscule as Anessa. 

There it was again—he was thinking far too much about her.  Not even bothering to feast on the tattered remains, Jack stands, coated severely in blood as he stalks through the thickets back towards home. 

For the first time in a long time Anessa felt cold. 

Trembling, freezing cold.  But the frigid air wasn’t what made her tremble.

It was that…thing.  Looming.  Watching.  Silently.

**_H e l l o , m y h e l p l e s s c h i l d._ **

**_“W-What are you?”_ **

Anessa woke up 4:37 AM, screaming.  Thick sweat coated her body, her breath rasping in her chest.  Two arms came to squeeze either side of her head.  Anessa, in her wake of her madness, was trying to calm herself down. 

Calm—collected—conscious. 

“T-That thing again…” she stutters, forcing herself to get up and flick on the lights.

She is home in her room, in the early wakes of morning, as alone as she could get.  Nothing to fear.  Nothing to worry about.  It was just a memory...

…was it?  It wasn’t Jack’s voice she heard speaking in that dream.  It was _hers._ That thought made her stomach churn.  The home, for once, did not smell putrid or feel eerie.  A quick, slow, nervous peak down the stairs, she calls out.

“Jack…?”

He usually did one of two things: knock back or come stalking around the corner to stare wordlessly up at her.  Neither happened.  That could only mean one thing: he still wasn’t home.  She supposed it was normal that it made her a tad worried.  The last time she saw him was yesterday at the park, where he held her. 

_Fondly._

Anessa wanted desperately to think about it—to really assess the situation at hand.  The possibilities.  The _reasonings_ behind his _obscure behavior._ But she didn’t have such novelties anymore, the ability to think to herself.  Jack always became irked when he was the subject of her deepest most intense thoughts, and as a result he would punish her.  So, she did what she found she could do.  She found herself sitting on her work desk downstairs and searched.  Mindlessly.

But her hour of research never.  Yielded her.  Anything.

Not that she should be surprised.  Anessa felt stupid for thinking it would be so easy.  A flick of her finger sends the webpage rolling up, bloodshot eyes surveying the screen with earnest.

The article read: _Vampires._

It didn’t feel right—didn’t settle in.  She felt more stupid than anything reading the Hollywood garbage that stared right back at her.  When nothing substantial on the webpage screamed for her attention, Anessa went back to her search browser and tried something more specific. 

_Grey skinned monsters._

She needed something that was at least remotely similar to him.  Fast healing, self-aware, sharp teeth, the ability to make more of…whatever it is he was.  Everything from the vague description of a mythic humanoid to the Philippine deity _Diwata_ resulted in her serach.  The first being far too broad, while the latter…well…they were in _Tennessee_ for starters.  Not that it was out of the question, but Jack didn’t necessarily have a God-like presence.  He was like death walking, filling every corner, every nook and cranny. 

_List of monsters in the USA_

She didn’t care how long it would take—she’d read each and every entry if she had to.  At this point, Anessa considered everything.

Even the Chupacabra.

The entire night she was home alone for the first time in ages.  For some reason, she dedicated that time to finding out what Jack was.  Anessa, for a moment, felt that maybe she was going insane.  She could be boarding up the windows or driving miles and miles away.  Yet, the thought didn’t even cross her mind. 

“…okay,” she lets out a staggering breath before allowing her fingers to move.

_Tall.  Pale._

**_Facele-_ **

Something stops her, a flipping feeling in her chest.  The air grew denser now, very much so, and it made her skin crawl.  _Jack’s home._ Instantly she stood up to approach her backdoor.  Sure enough, she could make out his figure entering her backyard.  Something slick looking was all over him, and it took her a while to notice that it was blood.  The door slides open, his dirtied hands leaving behind a blood print, and he didn’t even bother to shut it.  Jack attempts to stalk past him, but Anessa reaches out, subconsciously, stop him dead in his tracks. 

Jack growls.

“Hold it,” she murmurs, her palm pressed on the flat of his chest.  Blood soaked through his cotton hoodie and left a sticky residue.  It was old and clammy now as it crusted along the textile, and Anessa grimaces. 

“You didn’t eat,” she mumbles, noticing the lack of blood that usually stained his face after his meals.  She must have had visions of his slaughter, had feelings of his insatiable rage from just an hour ago.  “What have you been doing?”

 ** _“Were you worried?”_** the insult to his tone didn’t really phase her all that much.  Looking up at his face she stared into his expression: stoic, steely, and a rigid.  It was how Jack usually looked.  It didn’t last long, however, when he suddenly felt her push lightly against his chest.  “Sit down.”  He would have snapped at her, maybe even bit her little hand too, but she’d already turned and entered her small kitchen.  Jack stared at the floor, his brows arch and nose wrinkled, as if he were trying to decipher some hidden message on the ground.  Rather, he was trying to decide whether or not he should just leave again.  Jack couldn’t stand being in the same room with her after such a _pathetic_ performance earlier.  He meant when he said that he “didn’t know” what the fuck he was doing.  He just…did it.  Jack barely noticed when he took a seat on one of the dinner table chairs, his body hung forward while he continued to observe the tiles beneath his feet. 

Jack killed for sport.

Jack hunted humans for food.

Jack murdered those who so much as looked at him.

And he didn’t without a second thought.

Yet he was thinking so damn much right now that it was criminal.  When Anessa returned it was with a pan of steaming water and a washcloth.  Jack eyed her, like a cat on the edge, yet with a child-like curiosity.  She hadn’t said a word when she dipped the white fabric in the water, twisting it between her grip to ring out the excess before slowly, _slowly_ reaching for his chin.  Anessa pauses half way, testing the waters, and when Jack simply stared up at her face without so much as a grumble from his end, she finally makes contact with his jaw.  The touch was so small yet pleasant, and he allows her to angle his face up just right.

Warm cotton dabbed onto his face, smearing away the bright crimson.  Anessa had seated him on the kitchen table, his torso alone so tall that she needn’t even bend down to cleanse him properly.  Anessa didn’t have much of an expression, her face deadpanned as she dipped the bloody towel back into the basin of hot water.  Dripping, splattering water rings in his ears, lulling him, and it faintly reminded Jack of rain. 

“You forgot your mask,” she broke the silence first, her voice melancholy.  All he responded with was a low growl, one that he made sure to sound menacing.  Anessa didn’t inch back, didn’t flinch, didn’t anything. 

Damn—she really was getting used to him.

“What if someone saw you…don’t forget it next time,” her voice was like silk—smooth and rich and peppered with undeniable sadness.  It drew Jack in, as much as he wanted to hate it, because God…how he **_hated_** this woman.

Yet she was still there, cleaning him, in her kitchen. 

And he was letting her do it.

Jack scowls when her thumb brushes his bottom lip, “You’re being painfully tender.” 

He wasn’t expecting Anessa to smile, albeit it was subtle and on the irritated side.  “I still despise you,” she reassures him, but her tone was softer than usual.  It didn’t go unnoticed for someone as observant as Jack, and it was his turn to study her face intently.  Jack always enjoyed the way her lips parted when she concentrated.  Two supple bits of rosy flesh that were practically _inviting_ him to seize between his dagger-like teeth.  He wondered if Anessa could still scream if they were gone. 

He wondered if she could still moan without them as well.

Disturbed by such a thought he subconsciously lets a growl slips from his throat, the sound making Anessa a bit apprehensive.  He glances up at her, expression unclear.  Working on the blood stains on his throat now, Jack watched with child-like curiosity the way her expression stiffened, the way her lids grew heavier and lips pulled inward.  “There’s…a voice in my head…” Anessa mumbles, her eyes fixated on the blood that coated his neck.  She noticed Jack’s ears perch to her statement, so she continues.  “…that I’m afraid of.  It sounds like me, but it’s not.”  She dips the dirtied cloth in the water again, basin murky with pink liquid.  “I hear you talking to yourself sometimes.  Is there a voice in your head too?”

He didn’t answer, not like she was expecting him too.  Anessa frowns—she seemed like she was _trying_ to get _through_ to him.

It made Jack’s stomach swell up.  Suddenly, he felt anxious.  Suddenly, he wanted to run away.  But he wasn’t sure why.  Maybe it was her feelings?  Good—if that was the case, then that meant she was still afraid of him.  As she should be. 

“How do I make it go away?”

Clenching his jaw, Jack flashes her a grimace. 

“You **_can’t_**.”  Jack glares up at her, “It’s a part of you.  It will never leave.”

Shoulders visibly dropping she finally falls into completely silence.  The palm of her hand presses the warm washcloth along the junction of his neck, scrubbing it softly against his clavicle, and Jack struggles to not lean against her touch.  Suddenly, he notices his mask in her grasp.  Anessa reaches up, the straps undone as she prepares to strap it on.  Jack reaches, his grip large and overpowering her wrist, and forces Anessa to stop.  He was holding her there in place, watching her, motionless. 

“…”

She found the gesture threatening, yet there wasn’t a glare on his face.  When Jack was angry his expression said it all.  At that moment he wasn’t.  With her captured hand she dares to touch the side of his face, testing a theory, and as she suspected he leans into her touch.  Like a cat to its master, he slowly nuzzles her moist palm, his lips parting slightly to have his jagged teeth brush her skin just _barely_.

“Jack…”

Jack didn’t say anything to that.  Didn’t even acknowledge her words.  No, he simply relished in her presence, and for the first time in knowing him, Anessa felt sympathetic for him. 

She felt bad for Jack. 

“You weren’t always like this.”

It didn’t work the first time she asked, she doubted it would work the second.  Jack paused, his lips pressed against the palm of her warm hand, and his eyes opened just a tad.  Dried streaks of black were rough in her touch, but something hot and thick was running down her knuckles, and she barely noticed the fresh coat of blackness that was pouring from his eyes.

He was crying—she only ever saw so much come out once, and that was the day when he tried to kill her after finding her for a second time.  The day she was pumping with so much fear that he couldn’t handle it.

“You weren’t always like this…were you?”

“…no,” his voice was low, barely above a whisper, and there was grief hanging on the small word.  Jack sounded tormented, and Anessa realized that this wasn’t the Jack she was used to.  This was the **_real_** Jack talking to her.  The scared, helpless, suffering **_human_** Jack from her dreams.  She could tell—his tone, his body language, his mood.  There were few occasions where he was sincere; this was one of them.  “When I have dreams, you’re in them.  I see you, and you aren’t like how you are now.”

Jack seemed disengaged from her words, from the world, his eyes closing once again as he took in the softness of her skin.  He wasn’t denying anything—that meant she was right.  Not that she needed the confirmation.  She looked at his features; a man in his prime, frozen in time, with stubble and muscles and a mature stature.  In her dreams she only ever saw through his eyes, but barely did she see much of his surroundings.  She only ever saw what he was focused on at the time of when it all happened—his hands as they changed, his first victim. 

“How old are you?” she asks, and Jack turns his face towards her, head still resting on her hand. 

Jack's jaw clacks, “I…don’t remember.”

That made her frown.  Anessa could only assume he was very old, given he thought that her gun was a _pathetic_ invention of man.  Fingers knitted through his brown locks, sticky sweat tainting his scalp.  Nothing was more obscure than comforting the monster that destroyed her life.  Anessa worried that she had Stockholm Syndrome.  Smearing away the black goop from his cheek she sighs, “I want to find a way to change you back.”

Jack, snapping out of his strange state, scoffs at her.  “Impossible.”

“After what happened to me you can’t tell me that something is impossible.”

Jack felt his head being tilted up, his eyes meeting hers.  “Tell me what did this to you.”

**_Don’t._ **

Adams apple bobbing, Jack’s face wrinkles, her constant questions irking him to no end.  He didn’t lash at her, though, much to her relief.  But Jack’s hands noticeably clenched at his sweatpants, his eyes narrowing as his teeth grinded against one another. 

**_You can’t.  Don’t._ **

“I can’t.”

**_Silence…he will hear you._ **

Anessa wasn’t pleased with his answer.  So, he **_did_** know what made him this way.  Anessa presses, “ _Can't_ or _won't_.”

**_He will know._ **

A curt roar bursts from his throat, Anessa jolting back a few feet from Jack.  His outburst turns into a growl, this time deeper, louder, with that deathly intent, and it shuts her up fast.  Cats scurried across the house, the faint jingles dying out into the shadows of the living room, until all that was left was her and him.

“I… ** _can’t._** ”

Standing, he looms over her like a tree in the woods.  Tall, ominous, foreboding.  All her determination quickly whisked away when he bore his teeth.  Retrieving his mask, he slips it on before stalking somewhere into the house, leaving her with the mess to clean up.  So many question with answers she wasn’t prepared for.  He’d refuse to answer them.    

**_Keep it that way, fool._ **

_“Why do you care so much now?”_ Jack hisses, the voice in his head falling dreadfully silent.  Good, he hated when it spoke so often as of late.  But through the night as she slept, Jack sat alone in the living room, eyes locked with Jasper the cat who sat on the opposite couch. 

_I want to find a way to change you back._

Did she mean that?

…no more.  No more thinking.  Jack leans back against his seat, allowing his lids to flutter shut before succumbing to the total silence. 

Rest—right now, all he needed was rest and nothing more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow, rather uneventful chapters usually lead up to something unexpected...


	20. Fond (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa's nightmares worry Jack for good reasons, but he doesn't feel the urgent need to tell her exactly why. For now, she would go to work and return home as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it isn't as descriptive as my last NSFW chapter it still does have some sexual content at the end. Be warned, and finish the chapter right after her shower is over if you'd like to avoid it! If anything, you're only missing out on their emotional bond (which is displayed in other means).
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

“This is a dream.”

The fact that he was _cold_ was a dead giveaway.

“You’re asleep Jack.  _Wake_ _up_ …!”

He was running—he knew from what.  It was the only thing that could ever make him run.  Yet, no matter how far he strides, how quickly he fled, it was always just behind him.  Or beside him.  Or even in front of him.  A loud, blaring, obscure sound was ringing in his ears, deafening him, and he felt something warm dripping down his nose.  Rubbing to see the blood smear his hand, he couldn’t bring himself to run any longer.  Jack skids to his stop, his muscles aching from the energy he exerted.  A loud, creaking noise echoed behind him.  Reluctantly, heart thrumming with terror, Jack shakily glances behind him.

There—he sees _it_. 

It was so hard to notice, but _it_ was there.  It blended in perfectly with the trees.  But he _knows_ it’s there, because whenever he looked at it he could feel the world shifting beneath him. 

“What do you want from me?!”

Something lurked behind him—he could see the twisting shadows of tendrils that casted onto the ground before him, each one angling slowly towards his body.  Jack’s heart stopped.

**_W h o i s t h a t g i r l , m y c h i l d ?_ **

“She’s…”

_No, don’t say it._

_Don’t say it._

**_Don’t say it._ **

“She’s… _nobody.”_

Jack’s lids shot open, an enormous amount of blackness staining the carpet below.  He had fallen asleep.  A staggering breath comes out as heavy heaves, his hands shakily reaching up to tug at his brown locks. 

“ _Fuck_ …!” 

Bad—this was bad, bad, bad, bad…

If Jack was dreaming about _him,_ then…oh no.  He was quick to his feet, his body messily scrambling for upstairs at the slightest sound of a struggle.  When Jack bursts through his door, he sees Anessa squirming slightly in her sleep.  Approaching her bed, he takes a hold of her shoulders, shaking her a bit violently in the attempts to wake her up.

“Anessa…!” he barks, noticing how deep she was into the night terror. 

**_“Anessa!”_ **

Anessa awoke with a loud gasp, her heart pounding in her chest and skin coating with glistening sweat.  There was a terror in her eyes that was painfully familiar, but it vaguely reminded him of how she looked when she first saw him.

“Jack…!”

That fear she had.  It reminded him of himself.

“I…I saw _something_ ,” her voice was loud and hoarse as she still struggled to catch her bearings.  Jack was glowering down at her, his expression harsh as her hands came to grasp at his biceps.  “It didn’t have a-”

“ ** _Don’t.  Say.  Anything,_** ” he presses a finger on her lips, but Anessa shakes her head violently. 

“But it wasn’t a memory—it was real!”

Jack lets out a rough snarl, loud enough to shake the bed.  It silences her voice with little effort.  His face hovers just an inch from hers.  “Don’t **_think_** about it.  Don’t **_ask_** about it.  Don’t even **_write_** about it.  **_Understand_?** ”  Confusion welled up inside of her.  Eyes still wide, Anessa would have scowled at him if it weren’t for how serious he looked.  It was something that Jack did not take lightly, and that fact horrified her.  Slipping his finger from her lips he takes a hold of her waist, balancing her still-quivering body.  It was then when he noticed the tears streaming from her eyes.  He doubted she even knew she was crying.  Anessa bites down on her lip, hard, and lets out a shaky breath.  But she nods nonetheless.  “ _Okay_ …”

“Good girl,” Jack grumbles, watching as her head hung low.  Tears pitter pattered onto her covers, leaving small wet spots along the brown cotton sheets, and the room filled with the smell of salt.  It was 4:00 am.  Her alarm for work was set at 6:00, but he doubted it was best for her to sleep anytime soon. 

“…what was it, Jack?”

Throwing her a glare he tightens his grip around her hip to a dangerous degree, earning a snarl from his feminine half.  Anessa, swallowing her pride and allowing herself to become submissive, lowers her head and bites down on her tongue.  Jack eases up the pressure, hearing her sigh in relief.  She didn’t want a broken hip…

“Stay awake,” Jack orders, and Anessa throws him a glare.  But his face was stern rather than threatening, and it wasn’t something Anessa expected.  She nods, slipping from his grasp to get out of bed.  For now, she could feed her cats and drink some water.  She didn’t understand why, but if Jack did then she had no choice but to trust him.  Darkness filled every corner of the home, her fingers flicking at the hallway lights.  It casted a dim glow, dull enough to be easy on her eyes.  Anessa’s tongue felt dry, her skin clammy from the nightmare she had.

“No—don’t think about it,” she mutters, biting down on her finger as she literally drags her steps towards the kitchen.  At least she wasn’t hungry—Jack claimed she wouldn’t be for quite a while. 

Taking a sip of tap water, she lets out a refreshed sigh, her bloodshot eyes glancing up to look outside the window in front of her.

Anessa shudders.  Reaching up she instantly shuts the blinds.  The forest—she hated the forest.  Absolutely abhorred it.  Doing the same to her back-sliding door, Anessa makes her way to the living room to cover up the windows there as well.  Black tar tainted her once pristine carpet, her face cringing at the strange sight.  Jack must have fallen asleep hunching down again.  That was the only time the stuff ever got on the ground to such a degree.  She steps over it, fumbling with the blinds until finally she was cut off from the outside world.  Oddly enough she didn’t feel as exposed anymore, didn’t feel as though someone was watching her. 

Then she felt that familiar feeling. 

Turning around she notices Jack staring at her from the end of the staircase, his body blending in with the darkness of the house.  If it weren’t for the hallway light she probably wouldn’t have seen him, but she would have surely smelt him. 

She wanted to ask but had set the rules.  Anessa knew better than to break them.  Rubbing her eyes, she approaches him.  “Thank you.”

Jack narrows his gaze, his head tilting slightly.  How she hated when he did that.

“For waking me up,” she clarifies, but keeps it as vague as possible per his wishes.  Jack grunts, watching as she returns upstairs to shower.  The remaining two hours she spent reading some books to keep her mind from lingering where it shouldn’t.  Jack was silent, as usual, and hidden somewhere out of sight.  Once the alarm on her phone began to blare, Anessa dresses for work and returns downstairs.

“I’ll be back tonight,” she calls behind her shoulder, knowing very well that Jack heard her. 

Work wasn’t eventful that day.  Anessa remembered a time when she wished something exciting would happen.  Now, she was grateful for the slow, painfully boring shifts.  A hiker on the road here, a speeding ticket there.  Those were days she longed for now that her life was far from mundane. 

A car swerving down Kirk Street made her and Dylan exchange a knowing look.  Dylan, always being the driver of their team, flicks on the sirens to alert the car before them.  It pulls to the side, a little later than they’d hope for. 

“You or me?” Dylan asks as he undoes his seatbelt. 

“I’ll go,” she grunts, exiting the passenger seat.  With her hand rested comfortably over her gun, Anessa approaches the driver’s side of the sedan.  An older gentleman was swaying in his seat, a glassy look in his eyes.  Anessa knocks on the glass, “Roll down the window,” she orders a little harshly.  The man does so, an apologetic look on his plastered face.

“Sorry, fergot I had to do that…hah.”

“Sir, you were swerving quite a bit there.”

The conversation seemed very one sided—meaning he did most of the talking.  Actually, the driver was babbling on about trying to find the right exit to Knoxville. 

“I’m a Park Ranger sir.  You’re driving right around the Smokies,” she said dryly, observing his license in her grasp. 

“I’m going to have you do an alcohol test for me, alright?” she takes a step back, urging him to exit.  In the corner of her eye she could see the grin on Dylan’s face.

 _Asshole always thinks this is funny,_ Anessa thought. 

**_Maybe you should kill him?_ **

She winces at the sound of Jack’s voice before motioning towards the driver, “Alright, I need you to say the ABC’s backwards.”

“What?!  Nobody can do that!”

Needless to say, he couldn’t.  Anessa settled for the breath test, which he surprisingly passed by .1 of a point.  Anessa returns to the car, opening the door to meet the snickering sounds of Dylan. 

“You made him do the ABC thing didn’t you?”

“Yep,” she takes a sip of her water bottle, eyes studying the tree line for a moment.  Dylan was laughing again.  “You’re cruel.  I can’t even do that.”

“Nobody can,” she sighs, screwing the cap back on.  “Not my fault I’m looking for the lucky bastard that can.”  Licking her lips, she pats down her pants, about a second from stepping inside the car, when something obscure catches her eye. 

Atop one of the cliff edges in front of her there was somebody standing.    

“Dylan.”

“Hmm?”

“9 o’clock, up the cliff side.” 

Dylan blinks, “What?  Really?”  But when they look again there was no one there. 

“I know there was, right **freaking** there.”

Grumbling a curse under his breath, Dylan exits the car with stiff legs.  “What are you doing?” she asks as he cracks his back.  Glancing up the steep drop he lets out a sigh, “Let’s go check.  Least we need’s sum dummy turning himself into a pancake on the street.” 

Anessa knew it wasn’t Jack.  She would have smelt his stench long before she saw whoever it was stalking on the tree line.  Twigs crunched beneath their weight as they carefully made their ascent up the long ways up.  As much as she hated it, she couldn’t fight the anxiety that welled up in her gut.  The forest—she hated the forest now with an undying passion.  Those dreams have gotten to her, she reckoned, because now the trees seemed to stare at her with the intent to kill.  “There’s the car,” Dylan points out to the parked vehicle. 

“Right here,” Anessa’s voice sounded a bit strained, and Dylan presumed she was tired from the climb.  Tapping her foot on the ledge she glances back at him. 

“This is where he was standing.”

Snorting the mountain air, Dylan glances left and right with a crow-like gaze, his hand nestled safely over his holstered gun.  “What makes you so sure it was a guy?”

 _Because I smelt him,_ however true of a response that was it wouldn’t have been the wisest to say.  So, she simply shrugs to shield her powerful sense of smell as a hunch and nothing more.  Dylan was still surveying the area.  When nothing stood out he glances back at her, “What was he wearing?”

Anessa, a little doubtful, thinking back to that split second.  “Blue jeans…some kind of mustardy track jacket.”  Dylan stares at her as if waiting for more.  “…that it?  You sure you ain’t crazy?”

Throwing him a glare she scans the area again.  “What about his face?” he inquires some more, but Anessa simply shakes her head. 

“I didn’t see it.” 

“You must be crazy, then.”  The grin on his face didn’t save him from the small jab she made on his side.  Dylan yelps, the early ache of a bruise radiating from her surprisingly strong punch.  Something on the ground catches his attention.

“Huh, I guess you weren’t lying,” he bends over to snatch something by his feet.  The two stared into his palm.  A freshly crushed cigarette was still warm on the once lit end, teeth marks gracing the filtered side from excessive chewing.  Anessa takes a hold of it, feeling the remnants of saliva moistening the edge. 

“Guy needs some gum.  He might as well have eat’n it.” 

Gingerly dropping the cigarette butt back onto the ground, Anessa wipes her fingers along the edge of her pant pockets.  “Hope he doesn’t get eaten by some bear,” she makes her way down the small unmarked path back down, Dylan closely following.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone went missing in the woods, am I right?”

“Shut up, Dylan!”

The man chuckles, “Too soon still?”

Nighttime rolled by, Dylan’s playful nature sapping all of Anessa’s energy.  Not that she hated him for it—Dylan’s humanity was one of the few things in this world that she truly looked forward to.  Anessa wished she could sleep how she used to—eight hours a day.  Now it was more like eight hours a week, simply because that was all her new body needed.  Pulling into the driveway she takes step after step approaching her home, a little quicker than usual.  Ever since that night had had been admittedly more terrified of being outside.  The trees, the shadows—they all put her on a dangerous end.  The front door couldn’t have unlocked any sooner, her body slipping inside as she shut the door behind her.  Anessa was greeted by the smell of Jack, though it wasn’t as bloody as before.  She figured he had taken a shower after leaving his clothes out for her to clean. 

“I’m home,” she called, her keys making a swishing sound as she tosses them into the side dish.  Kicking her boots off, Anessa walks down the unlit hall towards her kitchen.  Her lack of water for today made her feel very parched.  With a clear glass she flips on the sink to fill it with some tap and takes a sip.  Now that she thinks about it, she hadn’t washed her hands since she touched that cigarette butt.  Soaping up her palms she scrubs them clean under the hot water, her eyes glancing up to see the curtain of her window.  Jack never opened the curtains.  He never cared for windows in the first place.  They’ve all been shut ever since Anessa closed them, and that’s how she intended to keep them.  A familiar scent fills her senses when the soap finally drained. 

“I told you to stay out of my thoughts.”

She was referring to earlier, when his voice abruptly echoed in her mind.  In fact, it happened multiple times today.  Jack must have been home all day, must have been bored, because otherwise he left her to her own devices.  When she turns, she notices how strangely close Jack was.  The small of her back presses against the counter, a startled breath straining in her throat as she grimaces.  It didn’t help that the bastard was shirtless.

“What are you doing?”

Anessa sounded more tired than anything.  Jack has been doing this a lot lately—getting up close and personal, sometimes even grazing at her hips with his nails.  He was doing that now, slightly tearing at the fabric, and Anessa would have swatted him away if it weren’t for the last time she tried.  Jack had reflexively given her quite the lacerations.  It was during those times she was grateful for her excessive healing prowess. 

A purr rumbles from his throat, his face not adorning his mask, and she could see the fixated look he was giving her.  Like he was studying every inch of her. 

“…are you hungry?” she asks, but that made him chuckle _darkly_.

“ _Yes_.”

Anessa tenses her jaw.  She hated when he did this—hated when he _implied_ what he really sought after.  “Then go hunt.  I’m going to take a shower.”

Jack didn’t move though, but rather kept her pinned to her spot.  Something strong filled her senses.  A whiff of his musk blaring her nostrils, and without thinking she shivers at such a strong odor.  Almost instantly her legs press together. 

“Let me scent you.”

Knuckles cracking under the pressure of her balled fingers, Anessa gives him a look of disbelief.  “What?”

His hands came crashing down onto the counter, grip dangerously tight like a vice grip as he caged her in place.  It made Anessa jump, made her heart skip a beat, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by his _smell._ A shaky breath made way from her mouth, enveloping his blistering skin, and it made him involuntarily shudder. 

“ **No** —absolutely not.”

“ _Please_.”

Jack, begging?  How out of character.  Yet it made her eyes grow to the size of plates, her shoulders squeezing inward at the sharp inhale he made.  He was smelling her, smelling _Dylan_ off her, and it irritated him to no end.  “He’s been getting _close_ to you again,” he growled, teeth clacking up and down with agitation.  Anessa shudders, her eyes glued to the wall behind him. 

“I _need_ to.”

With a frustrated growl she dips beneath one of his arms before pacing herself down the hallway.  Jack’s neck cranes after her, his stare burning holes through her back.  “I’m not an animal,” she exclaims before entering the bathroom.  She’d be damned if she let herself be treated as some sort of property—as some sort of plaything.  Freezing cold water did little to subdue the cardinal thoughts lingering in her brain, did little to distract her from her restless nights.  Even with all the soap suds in her hair she could still _smell_ him, a smell that she now found _pleasant_. 

“I’ll be damned.”

Damned she was indeed.  Several months with a monster really made her grow a bit attached to him.  It didn’t help now that she knew that he _was_ human, and that his old self was _still_ somewhere inside that demented head of his.  When she finished her shower she still felt dirty, still wanted to scrub every bit of her skin raw, but the discomfort was something she didn’t want to deal with.  The bathroom door opens with a small squeak.  Something soft rubs against her leg, Jasper, and Anessa gives the animal a scratch behind the ear. 

“Night buddy,” she spoke silently before making her way to her bedroom.  Anessa halts.

“…what are you doing in here?”

Jack was sitting on the foot of the bed, his back slightly turned from her.  He didn’t say a word, but there was an agitated look on his face.  Like he had an extremely powerful itch to scratch.  Letting out a sigh she spat, “Get out.  I’m going to sleep.”  Nevertheless, she approaches her bed, pushing the covers aside so she can slip onto her mattress.  But Jack has yet to move, but instead has been watching her every movement.  Propped on her elbows she glowers at him.

“Go away.”

“You no longer need to sleep.”

Anessa’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits, “I still want to.”

“You shouldn’t.”  Jack leans in, the weight of him shifting the mattress.  “It will be dangerous.”

Dangerous?  Anessa did have any words to say, her eyes softening into something more of concerned than angry.  Sleep was her only sense of comfort other than work, and now he as telling her that even that was out of the question?  Anessa wanted to scream, wanted to pull her hair and to kick him straight in the face.  Instead, she lets her back hit the mattress before bringing her hands up to her face.  She rubs her eyes roughly, a pained groan escaping her lips. 

Fuck—how shitty this all was turning out to be.

“ _Fine_ ,” Anessa grumbles, not having the energy to fight him.  Honestly, she’s been going soft on him lately.  It was something that even the masked killer noticed.  Why fight him though?  He was in total control—he knew things that she couldn’t dream up with her tiny little brain.  Palms pressed against her eyes she breathes deeply.  Perhaps meditating would make up for it?  It wasn’t like she’d fall asleep.  Jack wouldn’t let her anyway, at least not tonight.  Anessa thought of nothing, nor did she drift off into delicious slumber.  She listened to the sound of a beating heart—so quick and inhuman.  It didn’t take long for her to realize that it was Jack’s heart she was listening to.  She was never going to get used to these new abilities of hers.

Anessa missed her dad.  She always thought about him during their times of need.  Sometimes she wished that it was her that the forest stole away, and not him.  Maybe then she would have never met Jack and would have never been dragged down into this living hell.  No—what if dad met Jack instead though?  He would have died then.  Anessa was both cursed and lucky.  If it weren’t for her being the way she was—strong willed and a woman—then Jack would have killed her the moment he introduced himself.

Warm fingers pressed against her thighs, stirring her from her meditative state, and she snaps her attention towards the monster.  He was on the bed now, his body kneeling besides her, and Anessa stammers.

“When did you get on here?”

Surely, she would have felt him moving across the mattress, but she didn’t.  Jack, a little insultingly, responds.  “I’ve been on here for over an hour.”

She called bullshit.  That is, until she glanced at the clock.  It was pass midnight.  Propping herself up on her elbows she stares dumbfounded at the red numbers glowing beneath the pale lighting of her tableside lamp.  She had been laying there for two hours?

But how?  It only felt like a minute.

“You were in a standby state,” Jack mused, watching the confused look on Anessa’s face only grow more perplexed.  He hadn’t moved his hand from her thigh, however, his fingers pressing lightly along the firm muscles a little possessively.  Having grown used to his strange advances, Anessa simply lays back down along the mattress before groaning.  “…I think this happened to me before.”  It did in the bathtub back when Dr. Maroue was still alive. 

A low growl emits from Jack’s throat, snatching Anessa’s attention fully.  The way his back was hunched, the way he was hovering slightly over her lower half. 

“What the hell have you been doing?” she didn’t know why she asked it.  She doubted he’d answer it.

**_I wanted to be with you._ **

Anessa felt her cheeks burn with heat when Jack’s hands traveled upwards, his fingers hovering just beneath the most sensitive part of her.  With strong wrists he separates her legs before resting himself between them.

“Stop it.”

Surprisingly, he did.  But he was already so close, his breath brushing along the hem of her panties, and Anessa felt a swirling need to vomit from all the adrenaline coursing through her.  Her lips parted to scream something, anything: vulgar and rude and demanding for him to get out of her damn room.  But all that slipped out was,

“I thought you hated me.”

He still did, didn’t he?  Right?

Jack’s fingers were gripping the flesh of her thighs, his hands kneading into her soft flesh.  A low clicking noise sounds off inside of his throat as he arches forward.  _Just to scent you,_ he told himself.  Lips pressed against the soft cotton of her underwear, Anessa’s eyes glaring daggers as he proceeded against her demands, but she didn’t fight him back.  Even as she felt his tongue run up and down the inner seams of her underwear, she didn’t do anything to stop him.

“ _Dammit,”_ she curses, her legs already quivering from the hot flashes of his breath against her inner thighs.  Jack wanted her, oh so bad.  The fact that _she wanted him too_ made her so sick of herself.  Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes when the tip of his tongue flicked the most sensitive part of her, enticing a strained moan from her lips.  Jack’s palms widened, getting a handful of her thighs before pushing her legs apart just a little bit more before to his face against her.

Jack made her feel warm, at least.  Like a rigid blanket bringing just enough comfort in a snowstorm to ease the tremors.  Even though it was _his_ skin against skin, _his_ lips sealing over hers, she couldn’t deny the _wholeness_ he granted her.  Like be there with him was where she belonged.  It sickened her that it was with _him,_ but it also delighted her all the same. 

_“Jack…”_

He was a toucher, that much she realized.  His hands always roamed freely when they did this.  Even though it was only their second time she could still tell that he was very physically attentive.  Jack places his touch palms along the curves of her waist; a spot that he enjoys grasping.  Nails dragged lightly down her arms, and as she felt him latch a mouth over her breast she could feel her legs betray her.  Anessa wraps them around his hips, his movements oddly slow compared to the last time.  If it were with any other man she would have considered it romantic. 

_Maybe it was?_

Perhaps—he held tightly onto her as if a breeze were to sweep her away.  Jack’s thrust were slow yet deep, eliciting shivering sounds from her.

_“ **Mine** …”_

He was mumbling on and on between gasps, his mouth releasing her breast with a pleasant pop.  Face hovering above hers, he chants that word with each motion, his stare bearing deep into hers. 

_“ **All** **mine**.”_

All his and not to share—that was what Anessa was.  Even _if_ there were more like him they wouldn’t imagine laying a finger on her.  She was _his._

“All yours,” she says.  Given the surprised look on his face he must have not been expecting that.  Anessa never gave in.  She never _ever_ fell.  But the cloudy look in her eyes was enough to put everything out in the open on display.  He really was growing on her.  This right now said it all.  Anessa’s soft moan entices Jack to quicken his pace, his heart hammering in his chest when he feels her grip on him suddenly tighten.  That euphoria makes his body feel both dense and light, the rigidness of his grip on her hips leaving light bruises on her pale flesh.  Jack comes, his groans muffled when he presses his face deep into her neck. 

Then he _inhales._

She always gave off such a _sweet_ scent when she was orgasming.  It was more than a drug—it was like he _needed_ to smell that.  There was a sense of pride in him; a good feeling he got for knowing that _he_ was the one who made her feel this way.  Not **Dylan,** not some **other man.** Him.  It was such a _human_ feeling.  Snapping out of his strange thoughts he notices he was on his back.  Anessa turns, her body curling into his.  He growls. 

Instantly Anessa retracts, an expression on her face that was oddly difficult to read.  Like she was both fearful and angry.  The moment of fury was aside as he casted her a softer glance.  His body relaxes into the mattress.  When she doesn’t move from her defensive state, Jack opens his arms a bit wider and turns his glare away.  To further the hint, he grunts.

Reluctantly, and against her own damn judgement, she lays beside him.  Bodies pressed together, and Jack wraps his muscular, grey arm around her smaller frame to anchor her against him. 

_Fuck._

Again.  He did it again.  Fell short on himself and ruined years of perfecting himself into the ideal apex predator.  All for _this…this…_

Some time had passed since they finished.  She was asleep, even though he told her not to, but Jack didn’t have the energy to wake her up.  Even monsters grew exhausted from something as miniscule as sex.  Anessa’s face was pressed against his left pectoral, his deep and slow breaths rising her body in unison with the motion.  She molded into him so perfectly, like she was a part of him, like she _belonged_ with him.  It was a unison that he dreaded for, yet here he was, basking in the limelight of after sex with _her._ He shouldn’t be letting her sleeping—he should keep her awake _just in case_ he _visits her again._ But Jack could stay awake for a very, very long time.  Anessa was still more human than he currently was.  Sleep, though not in high demand like for an average human or animal, was still something she couldn’t avoid.  Even he couldn’t.  So, for now, Jack would let her sleep.  Until then he’d make sure to wake her if she looked to be having a nightmare.

Slowly he cranes his neck down to nuzzle against her messy hair to breath in her scent beneath the coconut shampoo and pine wood.  She smelt of musk and sweat.  To him, she smelt good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU GO: vote on this poll to help me make a decision on my next Creepypasta story that's currently in its planning stages! ----> http://www.easypolls.net/poll.html?p=5ada2cb8e4b0f7307b177b61
> 
> Such a late update! Sorry my viewers, but don't worry. I am NOT going to ditch out on such a fun story for me to write. I've fallen in love with both Jack and Anessa far too much to leave them out on the dust! 
> 
> I took my time with this chapter since it is, in a sense, a turning point in the story. An introduction to a couple of characters that will be visiting Jack and Anessa very, very soon.


	21. Outnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anessa is working a lone shift when Dylan is sudden called away for a family issue. During it something extremely unexpected (and unpleasant) happens.

It had been a while since she entered a grocery store.  _Pete’s Goods_ was just a small chain in very few of the southern states.  Most of them were fairly small in size, at least when compared to things like Super Walmart, but the lack of the crowds made Anessa prefer this homely location far more.  That and the fact that it was closer to home.  Currently, her brown eyes were glued to the selection in front of her. 

Old spice. 

Axe.

Dove.

“He hates these,” Anessa spoke to herself, finding that her thoughts were a battleground at this point with Jack’s incessant nosiness.  He didn’t respond as much when she spoke her thoughts aloud.  Possibly because she often spoke mindlessly.  She was getting rather good at that. 

The men’s section was something she never really went to ever since her dad died.  On occasion she would pick some cologne up for Dylan—a man that always complained about things he had forgotten to get but never actually went about doing it—because that’s what _friends were for._ Right now, Cora wasn’t shopping for _Jack_ as a friend though.  It would be nice for him to at least try and cover up that stench he gave off.  That natural smell that no soap could mask. 

“Does he even use soap?” Anessa mumbled.  Most likely not.  Yes, he showers quite often now, but never does he smell of her oatmeal dove or coconut lather.  He always still smelt like himself, only less potent. 

For a second, she catches a whiff of him off guard.  Damn, she already smelt like him.  How long had she been standing here in the men’s deodorant isle?  Far too long, probably, because she still had yet to make a decision.  Settling for Dove Sensitive, she tosses the item into her carrying cart before heavily walking towards the freezer isle.  Thighs, sore and beating with pain, made walking a bit difficult to manage.  Where there was an ache, there was also shame lingering in the recesses of her mind.  She could still feel the touch of his talons grazing lightly down her thighs, the stretch that he gave her in her core that was so difficult to get used to, given how well endowed he was.  The smell of him wasn’t making this any better for her.  Feeling that crave itching in her body she instantly swung open the freezer before dipping herself in.  Anessa looked like she was perusing the selection, but she wasn’t.  She was just trying to calm herself down. 

_“Why can’t I say no to you…?” she seethed._

_“Because, your body is simply reacting in accordance to its mate’s.”_

Anessa didn’t know shit about animals.  She didn’t know how they ticked, what their instincts were like…she knew the basics on bears and panthers, of course.  That was required for her as a Park Ranger.  But their _mating cycles, marking, other factors._ With each passing day, Anessa felt less human. 

If the bastard wasn’t so horny all the time, then maybe she could be walking straight for the last week.  Focusing in on her surroundings, she noticed that she was staring blankly at ice cream.  Anessa never even liked ice cream—then why did she miss it so much?  Nose crinkled, she pulls herself out before shutting the glass door.  It had been so long since she actually bought anything from the grocery isle, and she doubted she would anytime soon.  Ever again, even.  Darting across the small area of the shopping center, Anessa returns to other needed supplies.  Paper towels, lotion, shaving cream. 

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she had a period? 

Anessa wasn’t lying when she told Jack that she was worried about _pregnancy._

_“I’m incapable of having children. Neither should yours,”_ was all he responded, and rather dully too. 

At the time, Anessa was grateful, but she was also extremely ashamed for feeling that way, too. 

“Mornin’, Officer Milch,” the cashier chimed.  Anessa smiles softly, her quietness a little out of character, but most people figured she was just stressed.

“Good morning, Peter.  How’s the day going for you?” she responds, watching the total ring up higher and higher by the item.  Not that it bothered her—she saved so much on _not eating anything normal._

Peter laughs, “Great actually.  Nice and steady—good for business.”

“Exactly the response I expected from a manager,” she chuckles.  “Everyone always wants it to be slow here.” 

“Yeah,” Peter grunts, his bright expression turning a bit annoyed.  “Still tryin’ ta fix that.  Slow business means less raises.  These people make no God Damn sense…oh,” he stumbles.  “Sorry, officer.”

She tugs him playfully before swiping her card, “You’re safe, I’m off duty.”

“Well thank the Lord then.  No food today?”

Anessa shook her head, “Have enough at home.”  She hated lying.  She hated not being able to chow down on steamed vegetables, popsicles, even fucking pickles (and she hated those).  Peter says his goodbye, his hand brushing against hers as she took her receipt from him, and almost instantly he jerks back.  “Holy dam, Officer, your skin’s like boilin’ water!”

“Oh, sorry…I haven’t been feeling well,” she stumbles, but not from being caught.  Rather, she smelt the sweaty scent of Peter’s work attire.

_Same one he used for the past few days, maybe.  Smells strong—didn’t pay a visit to the laundry mat._

Her lips purse.

_Smells good…_

Feeling her body tense, Anessa smiles awkwardly before snatching her groceries.  She walks out, a little too quickly for it to be normal, but the moment she reached outside a dark expression showers over her face.  Her stomach growled painfully, and she wanted to gasp for air.  But no, she held her breath, because there were _so many people_ in the parking lot.  _So many stenches_ that made her _salivate._

“Fuck,” Anessa seethes, and she could feel her body quaking under her skin.  No—why now? 

Why did she have to get hungry **_now_**?

The breath gusts out of her when her face rammed into something firm.  Instantly, she was overwhelmed by the stench of smoke.  Flaring her nostrils, Anessa glances up to see that she had bumped right into a man at full speed.  Stumbling, she regains her footing before frowning apologetically. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond but rather stares, unblinking, motionless, and her police instincts kicked in.

_6’0”.  Caucasian.  Brown hair.  Brown eyes.  Slightly broad build.  Late 20’s, early 30’s.  About 180 lbs.  Sideburns._

There wasn’t anything in his mouth, but there was no denying that he had just smoked a cigarette.  Anessa could smell the stench better than anyone, except Jack, and it made her eyes water from the sting it granted her nose.  Swallowing a little painfully, she couldn’t help but feel on edge.  This guy wasn’t really saying anything, but she could read his stare clearly.  There was no denying it.

It was vaguely judging, practically boring into her, and instantly she felt her skin crawl.  Something about this guy made her nervous.  And that was a lot, coming from a Park Ranger.  “Sir?” she asks a little apprehensively, not wanting to intimidate or egg him on in any way.  Finally, he does something.  After staring, unblinkingly, for such a long time, the stranger finally began to stalk away, cutting straight across the parking lot.  “…weirdo,” Anessa grumbles, stalking the rest of her way awkwardly towards her car. 

Once home, she quickly carries the load into her house.  As she enters the washroom, Anessa peels off the smelly shirt.  Something unpleasant sounding draws her to glance back.  Jack was melded within the shadows again, the only visible part a small slither of his arms that caught the morning light outside.  Anessa simply continues, her shirt completely off and being tossed into the washing machine.  In nothing but her bra and pants she loads it up with more dirty laundry, including Jack’s trademark hoodie.  Something rough was drying around the edges, and she instantly notices it to be blood. 

“That smell,” he growls, Anessa not paying mind to the aggressiveness in his tone. 

“I bumped into someone earlier,” she says.  “No one special.  He smokes a lot.  Smelt bad.  Even I couldn’t stand it.” 

Jack seemed off, like he was in thought, not that she minded.  Anessa was almost completely used to how Jack was.

_Almost._

There were times where he’d do things she wasn’t expecting.  Like right now, as she felt one of his fingers looping around the belt loop of her jeans to tug her gently. 

“What is it?” she felt him sniffing her neck, but not in the usual fond way.  It was more like he was trying to put a finger on something, whatever the hell it was, but couldn’t.  Oddly enough, something was bothering him, and that was bothering her too.  “What’s wrong?” she asks, but Jack doesn’t respond.  Only lets out that strange noise that she had only ever heard from him.  Then he runs the flat of his tongue along her bare shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine, and instantly she groans exasperatedly.

She had grown used to Jack.  Now, the outdoor stray had become a clingy indoor cat.  This passive yet leeching nature he had been displaying was something she could barely keep up with.  The gentle jingle of one of her cats chimed in the next room, and upon hearing the noise she felt herself pulled back into reality.  She barely even noticed Jack tugging against the rim of her pants, his hips grinding against her backside as he breath became staggered.  Was he trying to scent her again?  Or was he always like this? 

“Again?” she scoffs in disbelieve, her hands finding purchase in supporting against the washing machine when he tugged her hips back further into his.  She was bent over now, her hair showering over her flushed cheeks.  “Stop it.”

But, as always, her body screamed yes.  Her body reacted in accordance to him.  She felt his eager sex, just as much as he felt apprehension, but the lust always drowned out the need to resist.  Hopefully today would be different as she grabbed her bearings by the through and kept them in place.  Glaring behind her shoulder, she watches the eager look on his face: slack jawed and strange black goop dripping down and staining the white shirt he was wearing.  His tongue comes out to rake along his sharp teeth, and he clicked his jaw before bending down to press flush against her.  Jack’s teeth grazed the soft flesh of her back, and he leaves a trail of faint lacerations that already began to drizzle with blood.  Anessa fights back a moan, her brows furrowed and muscles tense.  “I’ve got shit to do.” 

“This scent…it bothers me,” he breathed, growing more impatient by the passing second.  “I want it gone.”

“Then let me take a shower,” Anessa stood up, Jack’s grip on her slipping.  Receiving a faint smack across his palm he lets out a dangerous growl, the very same he’d use to threaten her very life, and for a second, she looked intimidate. 

Just for a second.  

“Not right now.”

He hated women sometimes.  Then again, not right now didn’t necessarily mean _not ever again._ Jack was the type to see what was his, see something he liked, and simply take it.  Patience was a quality that he doubted even the _former_ version of him possessed.  Still, he complies, bitterly at that.  Seething out a sharp, ragged breath, Jack stalks back into the darkness of the house with a growl like a lion’s tumble from his chest.  Anessa watched him dart away, his shoulders broad and cracking as he curled them back to calm his nerves.  Rolling her eyes, she continues to do the laundry.  She had far too much paperwork to do, and the least she needed was that growing ache of post sex to be dragging her back into a sleepless night.  Sleep was something she lacked, even with how little she needed it, even after a week of no night terrors. 

_Don’t think about it.  Don’t talk about it.  Don’t even write about it._

That was easier said than done.  Biting down hard on her lip, Anessa begins her charting in the comfort of her living room.  At one point she heard the backdoor open then close.  Jack left for another hunt, given he must have sensed how hungry she was earlier.  She didn’t want to think about _tomorrow’s dinner._ With a pen in her mouth she typed away on Microsoft excel, her eyes dry from the amount of screen time she was wasting her day away on. 

The next day, Anessa was grateful that she was working.  She never enjoyed her day’s off, given there wasn’t much to do.  The entire night she remained awake, working ahead of herself and reading some books from her library.  She was running out, unfortunately, and that meant a trip to the bookstore was soon needed.  She glances at the text message again.

_Dylan: Can’t come to work today.  Family emergency—gotta go visit my cousin.  Think you can handle it alone, Loch Ness?_

Scratching her cheek, she replies with her free hand, her touchscreen makes light bubble noises with each click of a letter. 

_Me: I’m not a newbie you know.  Is everything alright?_

The ranger car was parked in her and Dylan’s usual spot just along one of the many valleys.  Fresh mountain air seeped through her cracked window, her head leaning back against the rest of the chair.  It was so quiet without Dylan.  Honestly, she was about to die from boredom.  Her phone makes a click noise, and she looks down to see his response.

_Dylan: Yeah.  My uncle died; my cousin’s dad.  You know, the one with the 40 acres I used to camp in.  Me and her are like siblings.  Gotta be there for her._

_Me: Shit, I didn’t know.  I’m sorry.  I’ll be fine today.  Call me if you need anything.  It’s boring._

He sent a smiley face after that.  Chewing her bottom lip, Anessa settled for driving around town.  There was an odd lack of drunk drivers in the area, and Anessa felt bad for being disappointed about that.  What cop wanted something bad to happen?

Maybe she wasn’t the only one, not that it was a good thing.

Anessa wondered what Jack was doing.  She caught herself curious about him.  Did he have hobbies?  She caught him reading once—he was well educated given the way he spoke.  Someone as old as him, she noticed his diction sometimes didn’t seem right for the era. 

_I was a **score** and ten years old when I died._

_Stop **groking**.  It’s pathetic._

_My **beloved** Anessa._

She couldn’t help but feel shocked after catching him half way through “The Count of Monte Cristo,” and looking like he was enjoying it.  The sun was sinking lower across the sky.  Though it was still bright, many shadows were casted along the forest.  Tall trees made it seem night as Anessa parks beside one of the many nooks and crannies that the trees made.  She hated parking off to the side of the road, given many idiots sped down these streets.  Dylan never was one to think about the possibilities of an accident.  So, while she drove, she always searched for a nice little niche between two trees to slide the squad car into.  A radio show host was talking—the very same Knoxville announcer that Anessa was fond of. 

_“Hello, hello, hello Tennessee and those beyond who are nice enough to listen to my streaming service…you guys are awesome.  Top quality awesome.  Hot day today here at home.  Who doesn’t love a little summer funny in the sticky humid, huh?  Kinda with there were beaches here, but I guess I’ll settle for a good ole lake.  Happy Monday, everybody, here’s the top voted song on today’s polls._

That woman had such a nice voice.  Maybe Anessa was being biased, given the announcer mentioned her once as the _bear attack survivor_ all those months ago.  It made her tune off the channel for a long while, but guilt always brought her back.  Mindlessly listening to the beat, she puts the car on park.  Yes, it really was humid outside, and Anessa couldn’t resist the urge to roll up her sleeves.  Rubbing her lips together to find that they were dry, Anessa takes a sip from the water bottle next to her.

**_CRACK._ **

She almost drops her bottle.  Noises out in the woods wasn’t uncalled for.  Usually she knew which ones to block out.  That was, just now, was a bit too loud for comfort.  Cutting off the engine she flips the radio off, her eyes darting to the side to stare out the tinted window.  Green, luscious leaves shifted in the wind, the ground a mess of browns and oranges.  She didn’t really see much, given it was getting dark, but she knew what she heard.

“Dammit,” she curses before opening the door.  If there was someone out there, she had to get them.  This was something she was used to.  But as she shuts the door behind her, her hands tucking the pull portion of her dress shirt back beneath her belted pants, she couldn’t help but feel ten times more anxious than usual.  Without Dylan here, she was a one-man team, which means the closes back up was quite a while away.  Most likely she was lucky.  Most likely, it was a bunch of stupid kids that were trying to get themselves fucking killed.  With her hand hovering over her gun holster she charts her own path while strolling into the woods.  She knew how to navigate most of this, given her training, but too deep and she’ll get lost. 

If this were a horror movie she’d call out hello.  Training told her that making her presence known in a suspicious situation was probably one of the dumbest things to do.  Instead, her ears were opened wide, and her eyes mirrored that of a hawk’s as she scanned the area to find anything out of the ordinary.  Trees, trees, a few large boulders, a distance cliff side.

And more trees.

Huh—maybe she _was_ paranoid.  She could hear Dylan now, mocking her, calling her crazy.  Nothing at this point scared her.  There weren’t any corpses hanging off the overhang now that the most _dangerous_ thing out here was living with her. 

…but then she wondered about those dreams.

_Don’t think about it._

Hopefully it really was nothing.  But if it wasn’t, why did Jack seem so damn insistent?  Anessa never saw him scared before.  That was the most intimidating factor of it all.  Ten minutes pass—ten minutes of nothing.  Clicking her tongue, she turns to leave.

Then she caught a whiff of something. 

Smoke. 

_Cigarette smoke._

Really strong too.  So strong it almost made her wince.  And it was coming…from… **there.** Her left.  Anessa’s head snaps to the side, and right there she seems someone.  Hunched right behind a tree.  She could make out the brown hair, barley, with a face so white like porcelain.  But it was distant, far off, and if it weren’t for her incredible nose she would have never seen him.  Even with the trained eyes.  The mustardy jacket stood out like a sore thumb now against the evergreen backdrop of pines, and Anessa froze.

It was **_him_** again. 

No, it was worse then that.  She had **_met_** him before, just yesterday.  At the parking lot.  She was so sure of it because of that _smell_.  When she turns to face him, she noticed his body disappear behind one of the many trees.  Anessa walks forward—she wouldn’t go any closer than one hundred yards from him.  She had the gun, but if he had one too, then she had the cover of those rocks off to the side.  She stops half way, about three hundred yards more from that tree.  She knew he was there, waiting, she could still _smell_ him.  Digging into her pocket she was about to pull out her badge.

“Hey,” she called out.  “I’m a Park Ranger.  You can’t be out here.  It’s too steep.  Come on out.”

Her voice died in her throat when he came from his hiding spot.  No response, but instead, he stared.  A white mask was draped over his face, black outlining the mouth and eyes, and Anessa felt her eyes widen.  “Take that off,” she orders, her heels digging into the dirt as she stood her ground.  There was a dreadful feeling in the air—something felt off.  She remembered the look on his face: lifeless, cold, critical.  Like he had tremendous amounts of things he was hiding.  She remembered his thick eyebrows casting a shadow over his brown eyes, and the way it made her feel oddly small.  That judging gaze made her shiver under her skin still, but not out of fear.  Out of the unknown.  She wasn’t sure what kind of man this was, but she knew one thing.  She wasn’t ready to find out.  She kept her eyes fixated on that tree as she slowly backed away.  Back up was the best possible choice. 

“Stay right there, don’t move, you got it?” her voice was authoritative and clear, but deep down she couldn’t fight the barely noticeable tickles of fear in her throat.  Anessa turns, having only wanting to keep her eyes off him for just a moment to make sure she wouldn’t trip over that log from moments ago.  The sound of something cutting through the air made her jolt back.  Anessa lands on her backside, the blade of a hatchet lodging into the ground just between her thighs.  She screams, her legs kicking her back as he rolls along the ground to gain distance.  There was a man there, his shoulders shivering beneath the fabric of a grey and brown stripped sweater.  A man stood there twitching. Slack, and his body a little like a ragdoll, he frees his weapon from the soil with ease.  _Make out a face,_ she thought to herself.  _Make out a face.  Make out the face._ Her instincts to profile his appearance and save it for later drove her to look at his face.  Amber goggles slowly glanced up, the rest of him concealed by some sort of thick, cloth mask.  Anessa shudders.

“What the fuck,” her voice was a croak, her heard stammering in her chest.

What was happening? 

Who were these people?

The fear in her was far too familiar, skyrocketing through her veins like a drug.  Trained arms managed to retrieve her pistol, and she was thankful that her aim wasn’t quivering like when it did with Jack.  She didn’t even give him an option to back away.  Anessa opens fire, the loud roar of a gunshot shaking the air.  Muscles braced against the impact of the backlash, her shoulders jerking from the power of a 9mm blasting through the air.  The assaulter jerks, his shoulder shifting back from the incredible force of the bullet plunging into him.  Yet, the knockback does nothing.  Instead, he stood still, taking in the damage for a moment with a low and shaky grunt.  But there was no sound of pain, no agonizing cry.  She could make out his eyes beneath the lenses.

Narrow.

_Unfazed._

**_Malicious_**.

Another shot—this time he moves into it, and he _keeps_ coming at her.  “Holy shit,” Anessa thought she saw everything.  An arm wraps around her neck, holding her in place, and she was overwhelmed with the stench of nicotine and hotel soap.  He held her gun up, Anessa managing to fire out a stray bullet in the hopes of deafening him with the noise.  He hisses, twisting her wrist until the gun drops onto the ground with a thud. 

The mask-man’s voice snarls.  Squeezing tighter, Anessa could feel her throat collapse beneath his bicep.  Anessa thrashes, her heels digging into the dirt for leverage as she forces back against him.  To his surprise, she was strong, and he struggles to keep her at bay.

**_“Hurry the fuck up!”_ **

**_“H-Hold her still, then.”_ **

Finally, she feels her feet plant just beneath her.  Curling forward, Anessa flips her captor over her shoulder.  His back lands firmly against the ground, the sound of him gasping all the air out like music to her ears.  She goes for her gun, but a hatchet lands against it.  The handle hard plastic handle shatters upon contact.  One twitch, two; he was shaking his head a bit.  Like it was a convulsion he couldn’t control. 

“G-Get up, you idiot,” the shorter one kicks his fallen comrade on the side, earning him a slur of curses.  Anessa was on guard, her eyes never leaving the hatchet wielding maniac before her.  With a flick of his wrist he retrieves a second one that was slung on his back, his neck cracking with each painful jerk that his body produced.

“Easy there,” she places a hand out hoping to someone calm or relieve the situation.  “I don’t want no harm,” she sounded smooth, reassuring, but the shakiness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.  As he swings towards her she retracts her arm to her side instantly.  “Heh, fucking hilarious,” the fallen one coughs.  Slowly, the man sporting the yellow jacket pushes himself to his feet.  It was like trees.  Two, looming, dangerous trees.  But something was off. 

There were dangerous people.

Then there were people who felt like _death itself._

Without her gun, she could still fight hand to hand.  It was part of the course, part of her badge, but something inside told her to do something she only ever needed to do once.  _Run._ Chocolate eyes shifted from one man to another.  They weren’t even being cautious.  They were approaching, evenly paced, and the only reason why they had yet to reach her was the amount of backing away she was doing. 

“Taking too long.  Hood woulda had this done by now.”

“Then stop c-complaining and grab h-her.”

There was a heated argument between the two—Anessa could barely make out what they were saying.  Her mind was working like a scattered clock on the verge of breaking, every plan she formulated not as good as she intended.  There weren’t many options, really.  While they bickered silently to one another Anessa darts to the left, her legs working fast as she sprinted for dear life towards her vehicle.  Bobbing and weaving between trees, she barrels forward just in time to feel wood splintering through the air.  She just missed that hatchet, she knows it, because cool air was invading her back now.  A tear ran down the length of her shirt now, and a faint cut bled, but the sting was something she didn’t notice.  She noticed the hammering in her heart, the nausea rising in her throat, the deafening thrum of a ringing in her ears. 

Ringing—why were her ears ringing so much? 

_Jack,_ she thought as she practically tore her car open.  _Jack, help me…!_

Tempered glass shattered, the sharp axe digging into the headpiece of her chair.  The rest was all mechanical: the way she turned on the ignition, the way she flung the door open suddenly to knock the redhead down to the ground.  She stomps on the gas, the car swerving out into the main road.  She could feel the hood of her ranger car bump against them, knocking them down, and if she weren’t so scared she’d check if she killed them. 

_Slow down._ She was breathing heavily.  _Slow down, you’re driving too fast,_ her mind was insisting.  Anessa lets off the gas, tears streaming down her eyes. 

What the _fuck_ just happened?

She could barely press down the button to her radio as she spoke, “This is Officer Milch.  Two hostiles five miles down Smokey Road, eastbound off Kirk.  Retreated, requesting backup at immediate location.  I am down a firearm, I repeat, I,” she yelps when something black leaps onto the road.  Anessa skids to a stop, her body jerking from the painful motion.  From beneath the curtain of messy hair she could make out grey skin and a familiar pair of brown pants and black hoodie.  “Are you insane?” she screams, putting the vehicle on park before kicking her door open. 

“I almost **hit** you!” Anessa barks, but Jack ignores her comment.  Snarling beneath his mask her stalks towards the driver’s side, his tall body looming over hers.  “It would have done little to no damage, I assure you,” his voice was like a slithering snake coated in acid.  “Besides, what makes you think you can be the angry one?  You were the one calling for me after all—nothing out here should be capable of killing you,” but the edgy look on her tear-stricken face silences him.  Jack watches her staggering breath, watches her struggle to take control of herself.  Small cuts peppered her face—cuts made by the many shards of glass—and he notices the cut that ran along the back of her shirt in the angle she stood at.  Something was drifting in the air; a strange odor.

Jack sniffs it.

H takes her small wrist into his gasp before breathing the air around her, the familiar scent drawing haunting thoughts from his mind.  “What happened?”

Anessa gulps, trying her best not to seem weak.  “Two…fucking bastards just tried to kill me!” she spat furiously, though not angry at him.  Body shaking, the heat of anger burning inside of her, Anessa bites down hard on her finger as she tried to shake off the fear.  “One of them broke my gun and thrashed my fucking squad car!” she kicks the side of her door with fury, her fists rolled up dangerously as she paced around.  Jack glares, “Calm down.”

“No.  I’ve seen one of them before—I saw him when I was on patrol with Dylan standing on a fucking cliff.  Then I saw him again yesterday at the parking lot.”  Shivering with a strange mix of emotions, Anessa shakes her head, “He’s been following me.  I just know it.”

**_Following?_** Tiling his head, Jack closing the distance between the two of them.  The light bump of his chest against her shoulder stirred her from her agitated state just enough to calm her nerves.  “I just…never felt so scared ever since…” she trailed off, her gaze glued to winding road. 

There was a familiar scent coming off her—the smell of cigarette smoke and something else.  Something disturbing crosses Jack’s mind.  Voice firm, he grabs her tightly and anchors her in place.  “They were wearing masks.”

Frozen, Anessa slowly looks up at him, perplexed.  “…how did you know that?” 

**_You knew it, Jack,_** that voice in his head spoke dangerously low.  **_I know that smell, and so do you._**

“ **What…** did I tell you?” Jack hovers over her dangerously, Anessa’s body shivering at the deadly tone in his words.  His grip on her tightened, and as she struggled to jerk free her pulls her into him.  An arm clamps around her waist like a vice grip, squeezing her diaphragm uncomfortably and pushing all the air from her lungs.  “ ** _What the FUCK did I say?!  To never even THINK about it!”_**

“I didn’t!” she exclaims, terror and anger pouring from her as she punches his chest firmly.  It doesn’t nothing but make him move slightly much to her disappointment.  A bit calmer now, Jack lets out a long and wispy breath, “ ** _Anessa._** ”

“I… **didn’t…** Jack.”

He knew she wasn’t lying.  He could tell.  Either way, it would have been foolish for her, and Anessa was far from stupid in his _eyes._ Teeth pressing together he grits them, the noise drawing from the motion like two knives grinding together.  Nostrils flared, Jack glares towards the forest line expectantly.  Like he was worried someone was watching.  To his relief there was no one there.

**_You knew this was inevitable, you know._ **

She couldn’t see the frown hidden beneath his mask.  Hear stammering in his chest, he felt worried.  For the first time in a very, very long time, Jack felt **_worried_**.

Jack felt **_terrified_**.

And Jack wasn’t sure what the best thing to even do was.

"Are you going to finally tell me what the hell that thing is?" she demanded.  "The thing that made you this way?"  Silence; he was thinking.  A clawed hand came to rest on her shoulder, regardless of how irked she was. 

“Don’t enter the forest alone anymore.  When you’re finished with work come straight home,” he hunches down to her level.  The wooden midnight blue of his mask presses the very tip of her nose, Anessa growing tense.

“ ** _Understand?_** ”

Anessa didn’t even think twice when she nodded, “Yes Jack.”

His hand came to brush her messy hair from her face.  The thick pad of his thumb rubs away the sticky residue of dried tears, and for a moment he presses the surface of his mask against her hair.  Anessa froze, the moment lingering far beyond the length she expected it to, and when Jack releases her to leave abruptly she was left there to stand, startled.  She was grateful no cars passed by.  Anessa goes to enter her car, but not before brushing off some of the broken glass from her seat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter! I was too excited to wait to let this one out. Finally confirmed, my version of the Eyeless Jack universe does indeed include the other monsters. 
> 
> Also thanks for the poll responses! It well help me a lot for my next Creepypasta story, which is in the SAME universe as Raw Meat (yes, the same universe. That means reoccurring OCs woot woot!) If you’ve yet to answer the poll please do! Link is in the story’s main summary!


	22. Candor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Anessa finally have a serious talk about the strange being behind Jack's existence.

The ticking clock rapped in the end of the hall.  Like always, it was always on time.  Never faltering, never late between its small gentle pats, and because of that it was oddly soothing.  Jack never felt intimidated by a situation.  Never felt the need to calm himself before the storm.  The storm he was anticipating was a big one, with clouds stretching for miles and a darkness that even his own shadow—his own psyche—couldn’t compare to. 

Anessa went right back to work the next day, and Jack felt a great deal of resentment towards the way the human infrastructure was held.  She was attacked just yesterday.  Her car was tattered, and her body was covered in scratches.  What did the police department do?  Issue her a new gun and vehicle before sending her back out.  The least they could have done was give her a day off. 

Soft—he felt soft again.  She wasn’t hurt.  Even a broken limb was nothing to her now.  Yes, she wasn’t used to feeling such pain regularly yet, but she was beyond that of her cohorts.  More so, Jack felt an eagerness to keep her close.  By his side.  Because he knew well that no amount of ammunition or car windows or backup could protect her from that storm. 

According to her, the short meeting she had with the rest of her squad led to something she liked to call an “eyes and ears” protocol.  Cops were on the lookout now for anyone wearing masks, meaning that Jack had to be extra careful.  Not that he cared—he was _far_ more illusive than who he _suspected_ that the cause of her ailment was.  Around four o’clock Jack heard her car park in the driveway. 

**_Three hours early?  Odd._ **

The familiar click of the front door made him forget all about that stupid clock.  Anessa enters, a folder in her hands filled with papers.  She tugs on the tight tie around her neck, tanned shirt ruffled with wrinkles.  She had been up on her feet the whole day, the station in a panic after what had transpired yesterday. 

“I’m home,” she said, like always, and it was something he found himself eager to hear.  Placing the tie on the coat wrack she approaches the kitchen.  Jack was slumped over the bar, his usual hood and brown pants on.  Leaves and dirt tattered the bottom, crusting in a thick layer of mud.  Annoyed, Anessa drops the files on the counter only a few inches from Jack’s arm. 

“I told you to stay home today,” she tried to make her bad mood clear as day to him.  Like he needed any clarification.  He could see the dark bags under her eyes, the stressful lines wearing into crows’ feet from how much she must have rubbed the sleep from them.  Her hair was in a tight bun, something Jack had never really seen her sport before, and it gave him a clear view of her neck.  It was gone now, but he vividly remembered the bruise that lined it.  Suddenly, he was angry again. 

A grunt was all he gave her, having no interest in provoking the woman as she filled a glass with sink water.  As she drank, he found his eyes drifting from her to the manila folder.  Clawed talons reached over, gentle enough to not damage the sheets of paper as he flipped it open.  Normal printing paper with some sort of boxes pressed onto them with black ink. 

“Careful with that,” she wipes away the moisture around her lips.  Jack growls as she slides the folder around to properly face her.  He would have said something abrasive, but instead he became fixated on her face.  Anessa was gazing at the many sheets of paper, her hair tied back so tight that he could see the uncomfortable tug on her hairline.  As she spoke—something about _charts_ and _profiling_ —he reaches up to pinch at a lavender hair tie.  It snaps between his sharp claws, her hair unbundling before falling back down her shoulders like water.  It was fluffier than usual, the curls voluminous and soaking with her scent.  She glances up at him.

“You broke it,” she frowns.

He doesn’t respond, only stares, and Anessa just realized that he was wearing that mask again.  Paying no mind to his silence she shifts through the papers.  “They brought in an artist,” she stated, taking two papers before sliding them across the counter. 

“What purpose would an _artist_ have?” he scoffs, his hidden expression contorting into one of vexation.  He had better things to worry about, like finding ways in keep her _home_ with _him._  

“They ask me about what I saw, and then they draw it.” 

Jack felt his stomach swirl in his chest when two papers were placed before him.  Graphite was scratched along the surfaces, varying in pressure, to form what Anessa called _suspect profiles._ Those faces.

He _knew_ those faces.

He already _knew_ who they were ever since he smelt them off her yesterday.  But _seeing_ them was something else.  His blood pumped through his like liquid rage, blistering hot like fresh tar burning his insides.  Infuriated, exasperating anger was pouring right out of him as shaky hands grasped around the counter.  His head hangs low, his brown hair tossed about and covering the surface of his mask from the angle he was sitting.  Anessa could feel something awful radiating off him, like death amplified times twenty. 

**_SPLAT._ **

Black goop fell onto the countertop like a dripping sink, splattering across the surface and leaving bleeding markings on the corners of the papers.  With a tattered breath she leans over the counter, facing him in his wrath, and a part of her was terrified that he would bite her face clean off. 

“What’s got you on edge?”

Jack’s neck pops when he shifts his attention to her, his breathing rigid.  She stared at him, concerned, and nervously slips the papers away from him.  A fist lands upon one and makes her jump right out of her skin.  Standing, Jack glances at them one last time.

The first was a blank, expressionless mask with black lips and sunken eyes.

The second, a hooded man with jostled hair and goggles, a stripped mouth guard concealing the bottom half of his face. 

“I know them,” his voice was low, almost barely audible, but he spoke clear as day.  Perplexed, Anessa straightens her stance to get a better look at him.  She reaches over the counter, pulling his mask over his head, and he lets her.  A distraught look was plastered over his face: lips thin and brows meshed together with worry.  But he also looked agitated—very, very agitated. 

“Who the hell are they then?” she queries. 

Shoving the papers away, Jack stalks out of the kitchen.  Leaving behind his mask and papers she pursues him.  “Hey,” she grabs a hold of his jacket before forcing him to turn.  To her surprise, he didn’t seem as upset as she expected him to be.  No bark, no monstrous roar.  Just an unpleasant look. 

“Enough beating around the damn bush.” 

Her hands came to touch his face when he looks away.  Turning his attention back to her, he feels the soft touch of her palms pressing against his cheeks, her fingers curling into his hairline before scratching pleasantly, reassuringly.  A purr rolls from his throat on reflex, and he leans into her touch. 

“No point in hiding anymore.  Tell me about everything.” 

In the living room Jack sat stiffly upon the couch.  With one sheet of paper in hand he lets out a seething breath.  So much hate was in that breath that he could have singed the sketch of the white-masked man.  Anessa looked so much like a cop with her legs crossed and notepad in hand.  It was strange to look at her and think she were the same person.  “Give me names, Jack.”  He looks at the paper still and grumbles.

“ _Masky_.”

_Masky?_ She swore she would never get over such strange names.  The separate sheet was between her fingers as she rose it to view, Jack not even caring to look at it.  “And this guy?”

Jack bore his teeth as he snarls, “ _Toby_.” 

Anessa huffs, “Give me real names, dammit.  Surnames too.”

“I never cared to learn them,” Jack grunts, his back pressing firmly against the couch as he sunk in.  “Monsters don’t care much for formalities,” he adds.  Feeling like she’s losing some sort of battle, Anessa sighs deeply before plopping her back against the couch as well.  Lips pursed, she stares at the two haunting photos, an irate look on her face.  Placing them to the side she crosses her arms. 

“So, they’re like you then?”

“No.”

Now she was confused.  Snapping her head towards him she couldn’t help but cringe her nose in confusion.  “Then how are they _monsters?_ ” 

Jack looks at her now, “Because of the things they do.” 

That statement made a shiver crawl up her spine.  They were normal people?  No, perhaps not, but they weren’t exactly like Jack.  But they still did some terrible things—held incredibly dark secrets.  Anessa knew there was something wrong with that man’s eyes.  Something evil lurking beneath that human face. 

“You’re more like me than they are.  Biologically at least,” Jack clarifies, his head craning up as he stared at the ceiling with his gaping sockets.  Biting her lip, Anessa thought deeply about this all as she watched the shifting motions of his Adam’s apple. 

Jack killed to eat, but Jack also killed for other means.  Means he had yet to tell her.  Were these men on the same page as him?  Were they murdering for a similar cause, in a similar fashion?  Were they cannibals too?  Her mind was flooding with questions, and as if on cue Jack releases a short growl. 

“Enough with the relentless thoughts!  Calm down, woman,” he spoke harshly, his knuckles digging into his temples as he struggled to fight off a waving migraine.  It was interesting for Anessa to see him doing such a thing—it was a habit she had learned from her father, and now Jack had adopted it from their much unwanted connection.  Nostrils flared, he turns his head to face her, his cheek pressed against the sofa. 

“They do as they’re told,” he admits.  “As do I.  I am different, however, given I am much older.  Given my process wasn’t the same.  The demon changed its ways over the years.  It prefers having its henchmen close to its side, in arms reach now.” 

“You make it seem like it leaves you to your own devices,” she assumed, and to her surprise Jack nods. 

“Look at me,” he motions towards himself, “I’m not exactly a normal looking human.  I’m well aware of my limitations.  It needn’t worry much about me.  I know my place.”

Anessa places a hand on the papers, “And them?”

Jack grins, “They’re always trying to run away.  It’s interesting how a broken human mind always struggles to race back to its former self.”  Anessa was confused, he could tell.  The way he presented this all had a wave of mystery—some important detail he was hiding.  Anessa couldn’t put her finger on it, but nor could she force it out of him.  Sitting there, she basked in the silence, her arms crossed over her chest as she remembered what happened yesterday.  Two men tried to kill her.  They seemingly come and go out of nowhere.  They were impossible to hurt. 

They didn’t seem to be running away from anything.  In fact, they seemed very _eager_ to kill her.

“Are you familiar with the word _proxy?_ ” Jack’s voice withered, successfully saving Anessa from her confusing thoughts.  She bites her lip in thought. 

“You’re saying they’re surrogates to this thing?”

He stands now, his shoulders rolling to relieve tension.  “They do things on its behalf.”  The atmosphere became heavy when he stared dead at her, his face holding a powerful sense of seriousness.  “Their mission here was to kill you for it simply because it wants you dead.  You have been distracting me from my purpose, and you must be eliminated for its goals.”

Her brows arched low as she glares at him.  “Stop talking like you belong to it.”  Jack had a rather amused smirk on his face.  He tilts his head, just a little, and instantly she wants to sock him in the face. 

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.  You just told me something important that you don’t even realize.  Surrogates do things for it, but they aren’t always willing.  You said those two men are always trying to _run away._ That only tells me that a part of them wants to escape.”

“Your point?” he grumbles, that smirk of his gone now. 

Anessa seethes, “The point being that this thing’s hold on people isn’t fucking _perfect._ It can be broken—that’s why it has a leash.  Yours isn’t the way you look.  It’s the fact that you’re afraid of it.”

Jack grimaces, bundling her shirt in his strong grip as he jerks her towards him.  It looked like he was struggling to keep himself at bay, like he wanted to punch her, but he doesn’t.  He simply snarls into her face, and Anessa remains strong throughout it.  She couldn’t have imaged the severity of the situation at hand.  Yet, here she was, determined as hell.  The next thing she says makes his mind draw blanks.

“I’m going to find a way to kill it.”

_Kill it_.  She was going to find a way to kill it.  For _him_.  Jack stares Anessa up and down, a genuine look of surprise on his face before he snorts.

“…idiot,” he releases her, her backside sitting back on the couch once again.  Jack gives her a stare full of judging malice.  “You don’t understand what you’re **_dealing with_**.  Do you think this is a game?  Acting all **_brave and courageous._** Humans really are foolish in thinking that they can fix everything they touch, all because of a little disgusting glimmer of **hope**.” 

To his surprise he hears a sniffle.  Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenching so hard he could see the veins in her neck rise towards shallow skin.  Eyes wince when she lets out a shaky voice, “I… ** _AM_** …scared ** _._** I ask myself everyday why the **fuck** this is happening to me…why I had to meet **you**.”  The last part struck him, though he would have never admitted it.  Anessa’s body slouches forward, her elbows resting against her knees as her head hung low.  Hand squeezed at her bangs, and he could barely notice her body shaking.  Salty tears streamed down the corners of her eyes, but she kept her gaze low, because she’d rather die than let him see her cry again.

“It’s stupid and desperate but I don’t care if I disgust you!  I’m going to try and fix this, fix everything, because it’s the only way I can see myself surviving this nightmare…!” 

Jack saw the striking look in her eyes.  All there was in them was terror.  No pride, no strength.  Just raw, unimaginable **_fear_**.  He wondered why humans always lied to themselves.  Why they’d keep talking with total conviction even when there was none in their hearts.  Usually, this entire situation would disgust him.  Would drive him to leave for the night until the following morning.  There was something about her tears though.  Not just any woman’s tears, but hers.  Before, he loved when a woman cried out in pain.  In agony and fear of him and what’s to come.  It made his heart race and his blood boil with excitement.  Right now, it made Jack feel a weighty, disturbing feeling linger in the air.  His hand twitched a bit, the urge to reach out very strong, but he wasn’t sure what to do other than to stay and _listen_.

Perhaps hope was all a human had because that’s all they could do when up against monsters?

Jack forgot all about it.  He did having something like that—like hope—when he was still alive.  He’s been through enough to know that it was all stupid and fake.  Jack looks at Anessa, and as he stared he saw—for a sliver of a moment—his former self.  Sitting there on the couch in worn out clothes; his skin still flesh pink and his eyes still crystal blue streaming of tears.

**_Hoping_** that someone could save him.

The couch shifts under new weight, and Anessa doesn’t even glance up.  Though he wasn’t sure why, Jack found himself sitting down beside her again.  Arms wrapped around her waist, and she stares startled towards him.  He wasn’t looking at her, but his legs spread open, invitingly.  Hesitantly, she slides across the couch and closes the distance between them.  Nestled upon his lap, she rests her head onto his shoulder as he took the liberty to listen to her heartbeat.  Jack needn’t press his ear against her chest.  He could hear the rhythmic thump clear as day—a little quicker than its usual fast pace. 

“What’s your purpose?” she asked, earning a confused grunt from him.  Jack rose his brow.  “What am I distracting you from?  Why can’t it just leave us alone.”

As much as he wanted to ignore the _us_ part, he simply couldn’t.  Jack could feel his chest burn slightly as she melts into him, her pride falling short as she finally becomes lax in his arms.  **_Seeking comfort in a monster?  How precious.  I wonder how meat tastes when it’s slaughtered in this state._** That stupid voice was at it again.  Clicking his teeth, Jack tightens his grip around her.  “Killing.  To protect its playground.” 

“And where is it?” she asks.

“The forest.”  He feels her tense in her arms, all the information he had given her most likely blowing a fuse in her brain.  “Relax,” Jack muttered as he kneads his thumb into her hip.  “Nothing bad will come of this.” 

The few precious seconds a silence he held dearly as he basked in it, because the next thing she said he wasn’t expecting. 

“Jack, tell me the truth about something.”

“Dammit woman, what is it?” he snarls, already being pulled from his peaceful trance.  Anessa didn’t even budge from her spot. 

“Did you kill my dad?” it sounded more like a fact than a question.  It was something she was confident about though—all those times he’d stare at the family photos.  She always thought he was only looking at the pictures of her.  A young Anessa trapped in him, innocent and youthful and blushing in the summer heat.  But he never looked at the pictures of her and her mother, or her and her friends.  Only at the pictures of her and her father. 

Because he **_looked familiar._**

Suddenly, Jack’s body was casted in steel.  He wasn’t moving, but he had become so firm and tense beneath her that noticed.  “ ** _Yes_** ,” it was incredibly hard to speak suddenly, so the yes was all he could manage.  To his surprise, Anessa sinks against him further.  Jack remembered the look on that man’s face when he died.  He didn’t scream as loud as he expected a human should.  He didn’t have those big, ring-shaped eyes.  The man fell to his knees and said the sentence that started it all, _Please, don’t hurt my Anessa._ And when he died, he died with a peaceful look on his face.  Jack ate him, but he ate him wondering who _Anessa_ was. 

So, he _itched_ a _scratch._

“I’ll save us,” she utters so quietly that he could barely hear it.  Yet she meant every word.  Because it wasn’t his fault.  It was that **_thing’s_** fault.  They sat on the couch for some time, the silence finally casting over them as night crept in.  Sleep brimmed around the corners of her eyes, but Jack’s constant kneading kept her awake.  Sleep wasn’t an option.  Something terrible would come of it, and she was aware of that.  So, Anessa remained in his arms, listening to the soothing sounds of Jack’s heartbeat, all the while he thought about what would transpire the next few days.  Jack had yet to produce a proper plan.  Jack doubted that something good could come from all of this.  But he buries his nose into her hair, relishing the soft hum she made at the gesture, and he breathes.

**_You won’t keep her safe._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had to be split into two, which was disappointing for me since the second half was when the fun stuff shows up! 
> 
> My version of Jack's origin story ended up still being very illusive. I can confirm that he is just another more complex version of a Proxy for his creator (which we should all know who by now). We can safely say that he is very, very old though.


	23. Sling Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After work, Anessa faces a second encounter with the mysterious men who are after her.

The next morning was a bombardment of phone calls in the office.  The sheriff was locked away in his room, piles of paperwork flooding into various mounds, and Anessa felt lost in the madhouse.  She dodges several other officers, her collar upturned when she finally reaches the copier. 

“Holy shit, you’d think the president died outside ‘er somethin’,” Dylan clucked, a diet Coke in hand as he waited for Anessa to finish with the copies.  “We need ‘bout ten.  Some for the BOLO board an’ some for the stations,” he comments.  Buttons chimed with every command she prompted into the screen. 

A long sigh escapes her lips as she tugs along the skin of her bottom lip.  Paper spat onto the tray hot and freshly coated with grey-scale ink.  She watches it intently, wanting only to leave the shit storm of the sheriff’s office to return to the comfort of their usual rounds. 

“You holdin’ up okay?” he asks, his fingers coming up to brush some of her messy bangs to the side.  Smiling wryly, Anessa nods.  “Barely.  Just glad I’m alive.”

“Death must hate you or somethin’,” Dylan cracks yet another joke, making his partner’s eyes roll nonetheless.  Indeed, death must hate her, because she just couldn’t seem to stay dead.  She clicks her tongue.

“How’s your cousin?” she asked, fingers looping around the corners of her belt. 

Dylan shrugs, “’s hard, but she’s alright.  Ella’s strong.  It’s that good ol’ Riley blood, though, makes us tough.  At least she ain’t alone—she’s got her boyfriend ta keep her company.  He wasn’t there though.  Had to go for some business or crap like that.” 

“What happened?” Anessa asked.  “To your uncle?”

The darkness around his eyes only sunk in deeper, but he bit through with a smile like always.  “Remember that John Doe the other station found a while back in the woods?” 

_Oh…no…_

There was a stutter to her voice that she could barely manage to keep unnoticed, “You mean that…that old hunter?”  The one that everyone said got eaten by a bear—so the thought.  The amount of dread swirling inside of her only _amplified_ when he nodded.  Jesus Christ, Dylan just _nodded._ Snapping her head to the side she glares at the printing papers, stinging water filling in the space between her lids and eyes just threatening to spill over. 

“I-I’m sorry.”

**_I’m so sorry._ **

“It’s alright.  Uncle Teddy lived a good life.  Was the nicest man you’d ever damn meet.  If only you could have seen him.” 

Shit—her chest was hurting so much.  She swore she was going to vomit right here and now.  Anessa just wanted to _purge_ out _everything._ But that was so long ago, that kill.  Her first and _only_ kill.  Why, though, did it have to be someone that Dylan _cared_ about?  She barely noticed her body shaking, and Dylan places a hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, you okay?” he sounded more worried than suspicious, “It ain’t making you think about…you know…what happened winter, right?”

What happened during winter was her _fake bear incident._ Anessa chuckles, her thumb swiping at her eyes to lash away those nasty tears.  “I’m fine.  Hey, the papers are done.  Let’s go.” 

Once outside, Dylan toes the papers into the backseat.  “Off to the rounds!” he exclaims, voice gritty from tiredness.  Anessa reaches for her doorknob when something catches her attention.  A man was walking down the sidewalk, a phone pressed close to his ear as he stalks away.  He was sporting red, plaid button down with blue jeans.  But what really caught her attention were the sideburns. 

“… _shit_ ,” she rounds the car, ignoring Dylan’s questioning looks. 

It was him.  It was fucking **_him._**

“That one of the BOLOs?” Dylan asked. 

“Don’t know.  Stay here, Dylan.” 

300 feet away—it was like the world became hazy.  No colors stood out, no voices, no figures.  Just that man.  Anessa looks both ways before sprinting down the street.  “Hey!” her voice was like a bullet, booming through the various pedestrians and forcing all to halt.  That man turns to face her, stunned, his thick brows furrowed.  The _same_ fucking man from the grocery store’s parking lot.  Coming to a stop, she glances up at him, her expression hard.  He was taller, his jaw soft on the edges and nose flared.  Anessa could hear the sounds of a woman’s voice on the other end of the line, talking about something that Anessa could barely make out even with her excellent hearing.  All she could really hear right now was her own hammering heart.    

“What’s your name?” she cuts to the chase, much to his surprise. 

He stares for a moment, genuinely confused, before smiling a little awkwardly.  “Hey baby, give me a second,” he spoke into the phone before dropping it to his side.  “I’m sorry?”

“What’s.  Your.  Name?” she said slower. 

His brows arch, “Timothy.” 

“You got your I.D. on you?” she wiggles her fingers a little demandingly.  There was a nod as he fished into his pocket, pulling out a leather wallet before flipping it open.  Anessa takes it in her hands and stares. 

_Timothy Wright._

“You’re from Alabama?”

“Yes Officer.  Sorry um, why am I being questioned?” there was an underlying tone to him—a victimized, impatient tone, but not enough to irk Anessa. 

“Go by anything else?” she asks.  It looked like the question confused him even more, “ _Tim_.”

Anessa wasn’t an idiot—she knew she couldn’t get someone to admit to something bad.  What she really wanted was to make him **_talk._** To hear his **_voice._**

**_Hurry the fuck up!_ **

**_Taking too long.  Hood woulda had this done by now._ **

Structurally, he looked like him, but he didn’t **_sound_** anything like that **_Masky_** figure that Jack described to her.  That had almost killed her recently.  All she had now was to rely on scent.  Anessa takes a short whiff of air, the smell of a young man mixed with his own pungent aroma.  Nothing stood out.  The masked culprit that her, the entire Gatlinburg police force, and even _Jack_ himself have been searching for smelt like a cloud of smoke and nicotine.  It masked his usual scent, and because of that even her own senses had been dulled into a state of uselessness.  The atmosphere was awkward, given Anessa had spent far too much time thinking.  The young man stood there, waiting, but he remained silent given this was an officer.  Anessa smiles at him. 

“You visiting?”

“Actually, I moved here recently…well, not _here._ Knoxville.  I’m just here for a doctor’s appointment.” 

Anessa’s tilts her head, “Your doc’s all the way out here.” 

“It’s a special kind of doctor…he was the closest,” he admits self-consciously.  She nods, her hands patting against her pants as she turns away.  “Sorry about the scare.  You be careful now, you hear?  Stay out of the forests.  There’s been bears lately.”

“Okay then.”

That was painfully thorny of a situation she just put herself in.  If it was any different she would have been embarrassed as hell.  But dammit, she was so damn sure.  Suspicions only burned inside of her like coal, but she stores them away for another day as she watches the young man return his phone to his face before speaking to whoever it was he had been before.  Dylan snorts as Anessa enters the car, his lips popping as he takes a sip of soda.

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

She hoped so at least.  Maybe her paranoia was really getting to her?  It was surely getting to Jack.  She hadn’t seen him all morning, or night for that matter.  She presumed he was out and about, getting stuff done, making precautions.  Anessa wasn’t sure if she should have been creeped out or flattered. 

After her shift ends, Anessa returns home just before seven.  The house wasn’t as dark as always.  Jack had left the front porch light on, perhaps in the hopes of disengaging intruders from entering.  He was highly on edge.  Most likely he wasn’t even home.  Anessa confirms her suspicions as she enters to see that he wasn’t around.  She couldn’t begin to tell how long he was gone.  Perhaps a whole day?

Maybe even two.

The fridge greets her with cold air enough to make the hairs on her skin stand.  Messy plastic bags lined the inside with fresh meat.  Pink, bright, and glistening with blood, she could smell the salty scent that made her stomach acids boil.  Reluctantly, as always, she reaches inside before pulling out a small portion. 

She had to eat today otherwise she’d regret it.  Otherwise something shitty was going to happen.  The tender flesh squished between her fingers.  Anessa doesn’t even care to chew—she thought that maybe swallowing the bits whole would make it easier.  Then she remembers what Dylan said.  Incredible guilt was rotting her away, in yet here she was eating more mystery meat brought home to her by the monster who started this all.  Willingly.  Fuck—she killed someone close to Dylan and _ate_ him.  Anessa told herself that she wasn’t in her right mind.  But that didn’t seem to make her feel any better about it.  So, she rushes with her meal in the hopes of canceling out the thoughts.  She finishes, a few stray tears falling from her eyes when she washes the blood from her hands, the remaining blood on the counter being licked away by her two cats. 

Great—even they had a taste for human flesh.

All she could think of right now was how tired she was.  Jack forced her to promise that she’d be at her upmost best behavior.  That meant listening to every demand he made, to get home before eight, and to stay inside at all times.  And most of all, to stay awake. 

To always stay awake.

But as the days turned into a week she felt the urge to fall asleep far too powerful.  Right now, her eyes were like they were strapped to weights.  It was a literal effort to keep them up.  The softness of her couch wasn’t helping at all.  She prayed that Jack would be home soon—he would surely keep her up.  But when she noticed it had already turned 12, and when she realized he was still not home, she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer.  Anessa closes her eyes for just a moment—just a hair of a second—and then falls asleep.

**_Y o u ._ **

**_I s e e y o u ._ **

**_A n d I d o n o t f o r g e t ._ **

Anessa almost screamed at the face in front of her.  She almost punched it when it looked at her with eyes so wide.  But that’s when it hit her—those were her eyes.  She was sitting in her car. 

She was sitting in her car with her foot on the breaks. 

“…what the fuck,” she coughs, her eyes red and dry.  How the hell did she get in there? 

Why was she even in her car? 

She puts it on park, a disturbed look on her face as she cuts off the ignition and retrieves her key.  Pushing her car door open, Anessa takes a wobbled step out.  The mountain air was cold.  She noticed the lights inside her house still on, just as she left them.  In fact, her front door was still open. 

Did she just try and leave?

…did she just come back from somewhere?

Anessa returns inside, her legs a little uncoordinated from a nasty mix of exhaustion and confusion.  The clock that hung just outside the hall read 2:00 AM.  Oh no—it happened again.  Just a second ago she swore she was awake.  Swore it was only midnight.  Two hours rolled by?  With her back against the front door she shuts it, her keys falling carelessly to the floor as she swaggers inside like a drunkard. 

“…Jack?” she calls out, her voice cracked.  “Jack!”  Nothing—nada—no one.  Jack was still out.  She was home alone. 

For the first time in a very long time, Anessa hated being home alone.  She missed Jack—she needed him here—without him, she was going all sorts of crazy.  There was a fear of falling asleep.  What if she was out on the hunt?  She didn’t feel hungry.  Hell, she wasn’t even covered in blood.  But as she glanced at her hands she did notice something.  There was dirt between her fingernails.  Soil caught deep in her cuticles.  Where the hell did all that come from?  Had she been running around in the forest.  Her shoes proved that thought as she found the soles caked with mud.  Anessa was about to kick them off and force herself into the coldest shower her plumbing could manage when something terribly out of place caught her eye.

Standing right in her living room. 

_Watching_.

Anessa remembers those hatchets.  Ironically, they weren’t the first things that caught her eye.  It was his goggles—those bright amber orbs catching the faintest light from her kitchen.  Lips dry and cracked she bites down hard, her eyes wider than saucers as she struggles to keep herself absolutely still. 

Toby was what Jack called him— _Ticci Toby_ because he’d jerk so much.  At least that’s what her feral lover claimed.  The man looked to be about her age—hell, maybe even older—he could have been about thirty if she based it on his body.  But he was so clothed up she could barely see much of him other than his nose.  Pointed and pale.  Not a blemish on it, surprisingly. 

“It’s playing with you,” Anessa said.  He didn’t really make a reaction.  She wondered if he was even breathing. 

“Jack’s been talking to you,” he responds a little quietly.  Anessa wasn’t expecting him to respond so willingly.  His fingers adjusted along the wooden handles, his body twitching ever so slightly with the little control he had over himself.  “How much,” he demanded, though his tone was oddly soft.  She noticed that about him.  The tone of his voice was soft. 

“Enough,” was all she was willing to say.  Anessa’s back presses against her front door again, her eyes turning red from the pressure she was feeling.  “Enough to know that you’re a slave.”

That made him hum.  Was he amused?  Was he really so far into giving up that he accepted his fate whole heartedly yet miserably?  Toby was observant enough to see she was getting wound up about something, because he started shaking his head slowly.  “W-Wonder what’s so special about you,” he contemplates, his body moving so intimidatingly it was as if he was a snake coiling itself from the dark.  But his motions were heavy—as if he were a plant floating in murky water.  There was nothing graceful about killing.  He moved so humanly, so swaggeringly, and nothing in the smooth and chaotic way as Jack did. 

“H-He’s the dirtiest of us all.  T-Tell me what y-you did.  To have h-him make you like this.” 

It didn’t take much thinking for Anessa to understand that he was talking about Jack.  Her throat started to hurt, and she thought long and hard about it.

“…I don’t know.”

Because she didn’t do anything that she knew of to make Jack spare her.  That answer must have not pleased him.  Once he reaches the hall he stops, and Anessa was already putting a deadly vice grip on the doorknob.  “Safer in h-here,” he spoke lowly as he lets off the grip on his hatchets.  They slide down just enough until he held them by the very end.  His reach was doubled now.  Only two more steps and she was at his full mercy, regardless of his distance from her.  Those two hatchets were looking a million times more obvious to her now.  But he was right—it was safer in her home.  Safer than out there.

Than in the forest.

But Jack wasn’t home.  Jack was out there.  And wherever Jack was…

Anessa doesn’t think twice when she dips out from his attack just in time.  She could feel the painful tug in her hair when she doesn’t let the force of his blow take her.  It slices some strands of her hair as she pulls the front door open and slips out.  The night air kissed her once again, and as she raced across the field towards the forest line all she could think about was finding Jack.  The car wasn’t an option, not with her keys left behind.  She was so stupid, fuck.

How could she have dropped her keys?

But the branches behind her were snapping.  The dirt beneath him shook with every powerful stride he did.  It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the exact same case as Jack—as Anessa glanced behind her shoulder see Toby, a seemingly normal looking human, closing in on her with ungodly speed, all she could see was a monster.  She skids across the steep drop, her body tumbling as it hits the ground.  Anessa felt the earth beat against her body, the shock of the initial landing stunning her momentarily.  Knees bleeding through torn pants, she glances up at the sound of leaves shifting.  Orange goggles flashed the setting sun, wild auburn hair standing this way and that as Toby came to a stop to glare down at her. 

Anessa kicks herself up again, her body working at full capacity.  Faster, faster, until she couldn’t even feel the burning in her legs.  Until all she could do was gasp, swallowing mouthfuls of bug infested air without a second thought.  Leaping across dips and fallen trunks, she found herself sprinting deeper into the forest and worrying.  What if she got lost?  Where was she going?  It was so dark this late at night as she couldn’t even see what was five feet in front of her.  But her eyes were a special case—she could see better in the dark now.  She could smell the fresh pines only inches from her body and hear the thickets shifting in the wind beside her.  Toby must have been able to see just as well, because he was following at breakneck speed.

Southeast, she was running southeast, which meant she was going deeper into the Smoky Mountains. 

_Jack—I can’t stop._

Tears streamed down her eyes, her jaw clenching so hard she cracked her teeth.

_I’ll keep going until I find you!_

Something loud snapped, her leg flinging forward before she was suddenly thrusted into the air.  Her head hits the branches.  Before she could hear the painful crack of her skull or feel the ache, she is knocked out cold. 

Silence.

**_I s e e y o u ._ **

Then ringing.

**_L o o k a t m e ._ **

Anessa looked.  It had no face.

She makes no noise when her eyes finally flutter open.  Faded vision swirls when she struggles to make out what was around her.  Was she in the forest?  She vaguely remembers running…

Yes…yes she was in the forest.  She remembered running through it.  Running away from _Toby_.  A sudden urgency overwhelms her as she glances around.  Everything was far too blurry, but she did recognize something.  It was daytime now. 

…how long had she been out?

Her body was slowly, slowly twirling around by her now swelling ankle.  When Anessa looked up she saw the upturned soil.  Blood rushes to her head, her arms swinging left and right to grab something, anything, to steady the rocking.  It was then she realizes her entire body was aching.  A hand presses against her left side that seared with incredible pain.  “Oh… _fuck_ ,” she groans, her head turning this way and that.  Two blurry figures were looming nearby, and like a caged animal she struggles to wiggle free, her abdomen curling inward.  A snare was wrapped around her left ankle, the other end bounded up along the trunk of a flexible, young pine.  Hanging by her one leg, she could feel a muscle in her groin already beating with pain.  Anessa whimpers, kicking weakly, but all the pain that seared from her snapped ankle made all her efforts fruitless.  She was hanging like an animal waiting for the hunter to finish it all. 

With her hair in her face she couldn’t even make out the figure that sat nearby, but she could hear him.  Big feet began crushing twigs beneath the weight of their body.  Flashes of jean blue and yellow blinded her.  Fuck, her ears were ringing now.  She must have hit her head on the way up.  Blinking a few times, she relaxes her body that was slowly spinning in circles.  Vomit—she wanted to vomit.  The figure stops in front of her.  She could see his chest—smell his scent.  Like he hadn’t showered in days.  A gloved hand reaches up, and Anessa was too distressed to do anything about it.  He pushes her forward, his fingers digging into her gut as he used her own weight to swing her front and back.  It made her head spin.  At first she thought it was Toby until she saw the yellow.  She assumed it was Masky, but as she cranes her sore neck just enough to peak from between her messy hair she saw a person she didn’t recognize.  A black mask covered his face.  Red cotton orbs and a misshapen frown were stitched along the front to form a crude expression.  The man was hooded—she had never seen him before.

“What…what do you…” she couldn’t even ask the question, she was getting too dizzy.  The man rolls his head a bit to the side, the flat side of his palm pressing along her bare belly before pushing her back again.  It was a repeating action—like a father pushing his daughter on the swing—but there was something oddly malicious about his gentle gesture.  His free hand was buried in his pocket, thumbing something, and when he takes it out she noticed it was a video recorder. 

Anessa could hear the lens whirling followed by a light beep.  He was recording her.  “Hey…hey!” Anessa sounded slurred.  Just waking up from such a deep sleep only made her extremely sluggish.  “What…what are you doing…!”

He glances up from the screen before looking at her.  “Finishing the job.”

His voice sounded normal—it was haunting.  Anessa vaguely remembers Masky mentioning someone he called **_Hood._**

“Hey,” Anessa groans, watching with pleading eyes when he takes out a gun.  “Hey, stop…wait a minute, please,” a fraction of her sounded calm.  Sounded like a cop.  She thought that maybe, maybe if she was cautious and serious enough he’d stop and listen.  The thing about crazies—when someone tried to act all brave, it only ever made them all the more ticked.  Anessa heard the sound of him slipping his finger against the trigger, heard him teasingly tugging along it.  She didn’t know what make it was—each one had different resistances in the trigger.  She prayed his had a bad slack on it, then maybe it would giver her a fraction more time to do something about this situation.  To turn it in her favor.

“You don’t need to do this,” she was finally swinging to a stop now, her mind clearing up enough to cognitively think about all this.  Head brimming with pain she glances up at him, tears staining her cheeks, and she hated that she was still crying. 

“You don’t need to kill people.”

There was not hesitation when he pulls the trigger.  It doesn’t hit her though.  It hits the dirt.  Something black clouded her vision, and if it weren’t for the smell she’d thought it was a wolf.  Jack knocks the stranger back, his body hitting the ground painfully.  From behind his mask Anessa could hear his heaving breath, his sneer sinister and dark as he lashes at the hooded figure with a snarl.  The hooded man just grunts as he struggles to stand.  Slumped now, he reaches up to touch along the fresh gashes on his chest.  He makes a pained noise as Jack scoffs. 

**_“Get going or I’ll kill you, Hoodie.”_ **

Fumbling with his bearings, the weaker man coughs before jerking his gun forward.  He fires three shots, all of which aimed for Anessa.  Jack quickly shields her, taking in all the shots with nothing but a grunt with each surge of pain.  Teary eyed, Anessa watches Jack shiver for a moment before letting out a hot breath. 

“You’re really serious about this?” the hooded man sounded both disgusted and confused, like he just couldn’t fucking believe what was happening.  When Jack stands and rolls his shoulders effortlessly, Anessa could see Hoodie now taking a step back.  Like a drooling wolf Jack seethes with hellish fury, his clawed nails twitching with the need to rip into flesh.  They were already stained with blood.

“The fuck did you do to Masky?”

**_“Nothing severe, I assure you.  I won’t be as gracious with you if you don’t.  Fucking.  RUN.”_ **

Silence befalls the two, Anessa listening helplessly as she remains suspended behind Jack.  She could see the cuts and tears on his hood, his black blood seeping from beneath.  Had he gotten into a fight with Masky?  One cut was deep and sheading an alarming amount of blood—a stab wound on his left side. 

“Fine,” Hoodie huffs before standing.  “Have it your way.”  With that he approaches slowly before reaching down to grab his video camera.  The man gives Anessa one last look before disappearing deep into the forest. 

“…Jack,” Anessa breaks Jack from his daze.  The tall man turns, his body no longer as tense as he reaches over to grab her.  In his arm he slices the rope, her full weight against him, and he holds her like she was paper.  “Put me down.”

“Your ankle is broken.”

Shit, she didn’t even know.  It could explain why he was limping, then.  Jack carries them back, the walk short as her house had already came to view in under ten minutes.  With her head against his shoulder she whimpers, her eyes still spilling with tears.  He hadn’t paid much mind to it.  That was good—she doubted she could stop herself now.  Her sliding door was a tattered mess, glass all over the ground crunching beneath Jack’s boots.  He wasn’t cautious—that meant no one was home. 

“We have to go.”

Anessa glances up at him, her head still resting against his shoulder as he plants himself along the couch.  He was oddly relaxed now, most likely because he was exhausted himself.  “They’ve retreated, but not for long.  They’ll recover and come back, and they won’t be as easy on me next time.”

Easy on him?  Could they possibly take him on?  Anessa remembered how fast Toby was, how strong Masky had been, how intimidating and deadly accurate Hoodie was with that pistol.  Like a corpse now she becomes completely limp in his hold.  They found themselves in his position often: Jack sitting comfortably on the sofa with her cradled in his lap.  Together they ached, blood soaking the cushions as her own little cuts and scrapes were already on their way to fully healing.  Rubbing her dirty palm against her wet nose she coughs. 

“How are we supposed to get away from it?”

“I’m only concerned for the proxy.  Rarely does our operator act on his own for any matters.  But he will grow impatient, and we cannot be caught between him and them when it happens.”

Anessa swallows, “Will we kill it?”

Jack scoffs, “We can’t.”  He pauses for a moment before adding, “…but I can’t stop you from trying.” 

There it was—something she had been waiting for him to show.  **_Hope._** For a moment, Jack **_hoped._** Anessa chuckles, much to Jack’s surprise, though there was nothing bright about the situation at all.  Her alarm goes off.  She could care less about work. 

Anessa falls asleep in Jack’s arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juggling between this story and my book is a doozie! Exciting chapter as I finally get to include Hoodie! I rather enjoy writing for Toby and the Marble Hornets cast. Such a treat for me. I find myself to really enjoy writing for Tim the most. What do you guys think'll happen next?!
> 
> Since I have all three present, who is the last you'd want to get into a brawl with: Masky, Hoodie, or Ticci Toby? 
> 
> Honestly I wouldn't like any of them, but I imagine Hoodie being the largest of the three and perhaps even the most athletic (my personal head cannon lol). So, I'd hate to be stuck against him.


End file.
